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A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 






The Little Prospector and His Flag. — Page 148. 




A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


BY 

EDITH M. H. BAYLOR 


ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 




I library of CONGRESS 
I Two Copies Received # 

1 JUN 22 'BO/ i 

^ Cosvrtpht Entry 
CLASS J! XXc., No. 

//S-ra. ^ 

* COPY o. 


Copyright, 1907, 

By LOTHROP, LEE A SHEPARD CO. 


All Rights Reserved. 


A Little Pbospeotoe. 



Nortoooli ^Prf00 

J. 8. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 


EMILY, ANNA, AND ZAIDEE 
MADELINE AND BARBARA 

THIS LITTLE STORT IS INSCRIBED 
BY 


THEIR DEVOTED AUNT 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Across the Country . . . . 1 

II. Wallapai Springs 28 

III. The First Day on the Desert . . 49 

ly. The First Glimpse of a Gold Mine . 61 

V. A Narrow Escape 71 

VI. Camp at Last 88 

VII. Willow Bend 108 

VIII. Days of Heat 123 

IX. The Flag 144 

X. The Story of Black Spot” . . .171 

XI. Prospecting 199 

XII. ''The Boston Boy” 225 


[vii] 


ILLUSTEATIONS 


The Little Prospector and his Flag (Page 148) 

Frontispiece 

PAGE 


Harry had the Burro 



. 36'^ 

A Wallapai Hawa or House . 



. 40 

Children from the Indian School 



. 43 

SUJINIMI AND SUSQUATAMI . 



. 45^ 

First Lunch on the Desert 



. 54 

Cacti on the Desert . 



. 57 

The Barrel Cactus 



. 58 

A Tall Yucca in the Desert . 



. 60'' 

The Colorado Eiver . 



. 91 

Bioville 



. 102^ 

The Camp at Willow Bend 



. 106’^ 

The Entrance to the Cellar . 



. 111“ 

The Burro Arastra 



. 113 


[ix] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Julia, Good Eye, and Monkey .... 115 ^ 

The View from the Bower .... 130 ^ 
He learned how to pan the Gold . . . 135^ 

Tommie Jones 152 

Johnnie Jones 154 

The Little Joneses 158 

Coyote 194 

Prospecting in the Hills 200 

Outside the Tunnel 207 

Harry as a Prospector 224 ' 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


CHAPTEE I 

ACROSS THE COUNTRY 

“ A LL aboard ! ” called the con- 
/ % ductor. “ Clang, clang,” rang 
^ the bell on the great engine. 
“ Good-by, everybody ! ” shouted Harry. 

The Lake Shore Limited pulled slowly 
out of the South Station in Boston, carry- 
ing on board a small, eight-year-old boy, 
who was at the beginning of a long jour- 
ney, — a journey that would take him 
thousands of miles across this great con- 
tinent, and far away to a distant spot in 
II] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


the desert, where no white child had ever 
been before. 

“ Oh, mamma, we’re really started and 
we’re going for nights and days, and 
nights and days,” exclaimed Harry, 
plumping himself down on the cush- 
ioned seat. “ You don’t s’pose papa got 
left ? ” he added, with an anxious look 
toward the end of the car. 

“No, there he comes,” replied Mrs. 
Baldwin, “ and he’s loaded with all sorts 
of packages. Run quickly and help him. 
There is a little dress-suit case marked 
H. S. B.” 

Harry thought that the most delight- 
ful thing a child could do was to travel 
in a sleeping-car; what fun it was to 
watch the porter pull down the upper 
berth and make up two nice beds ! 

[ 2 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


Then, early in the morning, when every 
one else was asleep, it was such fun to 
stand in the upper berth, and peep over 
the top of the curtains ; or else to lie in 
the lower berth looking out of the win- 
dow. What a time he had trying to get 
himself dressed ! He always washed his 
face and hands in the men’s dressing- 
room because he was such a big boy, and 
one morning while he was struggling to 
part his hair straight, a nice old gentle- 
man said, “ Aren’t you as much as eleven 
or twelve years old? ” That made Harry 
very happy, and he spent so much time 
thinking about it that before he was half 
ready he heard a man shouting, “ Third 
and last call for breakfast ! ” 

Breakfast in the dining-car was fun, 
too; the strawberries and oatmeal were 
[ 3 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


good and the milk was nice and creamy. 
Once the train went around a curve sud- 
denly just as Harry was starting to drink 
his milk, when slop ! over it spilled all 
down the front of his clean linen suit; 
and papa and mamma conldn’t say a 
word, for of course it wasn’t his fault. 
But better than anything Harry loved 
the hours when he sat with his small 
nose flattened against the window pane, 
watching — watching the wonders of a 
new world. It all made him think of 
some verses that his mother had read to 
him ; perhaps you know them : — 

“ The land was running from the train, 

All blurry through the window pane ; 

“ And then it all looked flat and still, 

When up there jumped a little hill ! 

[ 4 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


I saw the meadows and the spires, 

And sparrows sitting on the wires ; 

And fences running up and down ; 

And then we cut straight through a town. 

I saw a valley like a cup ; 

And ponds that twinkled and dried up ; 

I counted meadows that were burnt, 

And there were trees and then there weren’t. 

We crossed the bridges with a roar. 

Then hummed the way we went before ; 

And tunnels made it dark and light, 

Like open-work of day and night.” 

When the hours began to drag, there 
were games of birds, flags, and animals 
to be played, or books to be read, and 
best of all there was a sectional map of 
the United States to be put together. It 
was such a big one that it nearly covered 
[ 5 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


the table which the porter set up be- 
tween the seats. Each State was a sep- 
arate block that fitted neatly into the 
surrounding States, so that from a jumble 
of shapeless pieces of wood Harry could 
make a smooth, beautiful map. When 
it was finished he would run his pencil 
along to show where their train was 
going on and on from State to State; 
next he would mix up the blocks again 
and ask his mother to hold up one after 
another for him to guess. Soon he 
could name each one from big California 
and Texas to tiny New Jersey, which 
was always falling under the table or 
getting lost in a crack. 

One morning, when they were a day 
out from Chicago, Harry ran to his 
mother with his eyes very large. 

[ 6 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


“ Mamma, mamma,” lie cried, “ there 
is a little boy in the next car that’s going 
all the way to California by himself ; he 
hasn’t had any breakfast, and he has a 
sore throat, and his name is Teddy. 
Please come and see him quick ! ” 

Obliged to stop for want of breath, 
Harry seized his mother’s arm and 
dragged her after him down the aisle, 
through the vestibule, to the car beyond. 
There Mrs. Baldwin saw a pitiful sight, 
— a little heap, hardly recognizable as a 
boy, from which came stifled sobs. 

“ What is the matter, dear? ” she asked 
kindly as she smoothed the hair fi’om the 
child’s burning forehead. “Does your 
throat hurt you?” 

“ Yes’m,” he answered, “ I can’t swal- 
low and my head feels queer; mother 
[T] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


used to put wet cloths on my neck when 
it was like this.” 

“Where is your mother, dear?” 

The boy’s large eyes filled slowly with 
tears. “ She’s dead and my father, too, 
so some people put me on this train to go 
to my grandfather in California ; but it’s 
such a long way, and I’m so lonely ! ” 

“ Well, you won’t be lonely any more,” 
said his new friend, putting her arm 
about him, “ you can play that I am your 
aunt and that Harry is your cousin. Eun, 
Harry, and ask papa to have the porter 
make up a berth in our car for Teddy.” 

Harry, wild with excitement, skipped 
off, and before half an hour had gone by, 
the little sick boy was cuddled down in 
a cool, comfortable bed. His throat had 
been sprayed and he had taken some 
[ 8 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


medicine from a very mysterious bag in 
which Mrs. Baldwin kept all sorts of in- 
teresting things. 

By the next morning, to Harry’s great 
delight, Teddy’s cold was so much better 
that he got up and dressed himself. Then 
what a good time the two boys had 
together ! 

“ Isn’t it funny,” exclaimed Harry, 
when they had been comparing notes, 
“how our watches keep getting wrong? 
I’ve had to turn the little hand back 
twice, — a whole hour each time.” 

“ Don’t you know why that is? ” asked 
his father. “ It’s because we are running 
away from the Eastern sunrise time, 
and the people in this part of the coun- 
try wish to have sunrise times of their 


own. 


[ 9 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


Harry nodded his head wisely, but after 
all he didn’t quite understand. 

That night when he went to bed he 
asked what time they should have break- 
fast, and the porter said, “ Dodge City at 
nine o’clock.” When nine o’clock came, 
Harry, all ready to get off the train, in- 
quired for Dodge City. “ Won’t be there 
for an hour yet; turn your watch back, 
suh,” the porter said with a grin. 

“ Oh, papa ! ” Harry shouted, “ it’s 
just like Kipling’s story of ‘ One, two, 
three, where’s your breakfast ! ’ ” He 
couldn’t imagine why every one laughed. 
I think it was because they Avere all 
hungry and thought the very same thing. 
Don’t you ? 

Sometimes the train rushed through 
great prairies which many people thought 
[ 10 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


monotonous, but Harry and Teddy never 
tired of watching for the prairie dogs that 
sat up very straight on their little houses 
and bobbed down like a flash when the 
train came near. 

“ Somebody told me once,” said Teddy, 
“ that owls and snakes live in the same 
holes with the prairie dogs ; doesn’t it 
seem queer?” 

“ I should think so,” laughed Harry. 
“ The owls and snakes must be lazy or 
they would make holes of their own, and 
the prairie dogs must get awfully tired 
of doing all the work. Think how funny 
it must be when there are baby prairie 
dogs, and baby snakes, and baby owls, all 
mixed up together ; there must be a great 
old hissing and scratching — ” 

“ Look,” interrupted Teddy, “ what’s 
[ 11 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


that animal standing right beside the 
train ? ” 

“ A coyote,” answered Mrs. Baldwin. 
“ Isn’t he a beauty, with his straight ears, 
sharp nose, and great bushy tail ? ” 

“ He looks just like our collie, mamma,” 
said Harry, “ and he doesn’t seem one 
bit afraid. See how still he stands 
watching us.” 

“ Maybe this is the first train he has 
ever seen,” put in Teddy; “ I believe he’s 
trotting home now to tell his children 
about a queer, new animal.” 

“That’s just it,” added Harry, with 
glee, “ and he thinks it’s a dragon because 
fire and smoke come out of the engine, 
’zactly the way they do out of a dragon’s 
mouth. But I tell you one thing, there’s 
something I’m looking for that’s lots 
[ 12 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


better than coyotes. Guess what it is, 
Teddy.” 

“ That’s easy,” laughed the other small 
boy, “ Indians ! I’m looking for them 
too. Where do you suppose they are ? ” 

All that morning the children looked 
in vain, but at last in the early afternoon 
the train stopped at Albuquerque, and 
there, indeed, were Indians, — Navahos, 
gorgeous with bright blankets, beads, and 
feathers like the real picture-book Ind- 
ians. The things they sold would have 
delighted any child; there were little 
bows and arrows, little blankets, little 
baskets, canes, and all sorts of clay 
pitchers and vases made in the shape of 
ugly birds or strange beasts. 

Inside the station-hotel, where a mu- 
seum had been filled with wonderful Ind- 
[ 13 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


ian curios, the boys saw a tiny Indian 
girl weaving, all by herself, a brilliant 
blanket. She was a wee bit of a thing, 
but the little hands sent the shnttle fly- 
ing back and forth as deftly as her 
mother’s. The mother, Harry was de- 
lighted to And, had made the blanket 
that was given to President Eoosevelt 
when he visited Albuquerque. The boys 
wondered whether he saw the little girl 
working, and whether he told his children 
afterward how she held np four tiny 
fingers and two thumbs when asked her 
age. 

Some hours after leaving Albuquerqne 
the train stopped again, this time at the 
very strangest village that Harry had 
ever seen. It looked to him at first like 
a fort, but when he was standing outside 
[ 14 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


the car, he saw that it wasn’t a fort at 
all, only what seemed to be a house of 
mud built in huge steps. There were 
openings here and there, and ladders 
reaching from one step to another. He 
was much puzzled when his mother ex- 
plained to him that it was an Indian 
Pueblo or village and that very many 
families lived there together, just as if 
it were a big hotel. 

“ I suppose those ladders are the stair- 
ways. How queer to have them on the 
outside ! ” exclaimed Harry. 

“ See how shaky they are,” said Mr. 
Baldwin. “ The Indian children must 
have to be very careful when they go up 
and down. Think, Harry, of having no 
baluster rail to slide ! ” 

Teddy, who had been quietly listening 
[ 16 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


and watching, asked suddenly, “Is the 
house really mud?” 

“ Yes,” answered Mr. Baldwin, “ it 
really is made of mud that has been dried 
in the sun. Many of the Indians, Mexi- 
cans, and even white men, make their 
houses of it, and call it adobe. It may 
seem to you that a mud house can’t help 
being ugly and dirty, but before long you 
will see some that are beautiful with 
their bright red roofs and the rose vines 
climbing over the brown walls.” 

“Why can’t we have adobe houses?” 

“ Simply because we haven’t the right 
kind of mud in the East and because 
there is too much rain. In Mexico and 
Arizona there is almost no rain. Don’t 
you see how the country stretches away 
on all sides, brown and thirsty?” 

[ 16 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


As Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin and the boys 
stood talking, a crowd of Indian women 
from the Pueblo came to the train to sell 
their pottery. The small pieces they 
carried in baskets, but the large vases 
and ollas (pyas) they balanced on their 
heads. Harry was amazed to see how 
quickly they walked ; it seemed as if 
they must have forgotten that there was 
anything on their heads, and every 
minute he expected to hear a crash. 
The group of squaws formed a brilliant 
splash of color against the brown back- 
ground. The brightly colored skirts and 
the strings of glittering beads contrasted 
sharply with the white waists and snowy 
head draperies. 

“Have they all got broken legs, papa?” 
whispered Harry. “Just look ! Every 
[ 17 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


single one has bandages round her legs 
and feet.” 

“No indeed, boy, those bandages take 
the place of stockings and shoes. Do 
you think you could keep them as clean 
as that ? ” 

“ I guess I couldn’t ! Teddy, don’t 
you like these Indians best of any ? ” 

“ So far I do,” replied the other small 
boy. “ They’re so friendly-looking and 
they can balance things on their heads 
so nicely. What are those big vases for, 
Mr. Baldwin ? ” 

“ They are ollas or water-bottles, but 
they take the place of ice wagons as 
well.” 

“ Oh, papa ! ” burst out Harry. “What 
do you take us for?” 

“ That is really true. The clay of 
[ 18 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


which they are made is full of tiny holes 
through which the water oozes and is 
taken up into the air. That is called 
evaporation. This same process, with 
the long name, leaves the rest of the 
water cool and delicious to drink. There 
is never any really cold weather here and 
never any ice, unless it is manufactured, 
so the wise Indians have this way of 
making the water cold.” 

“ Are we going to have an olla our- 
selves when we get to the desert? ” asked 
Harry. 

“ Indeed we are, but it won’t be a thing 
of beauty. Perhaps nothing but a can 
with some wet cloths around it. The cloth 
does the same work as the porous clay.” 

The whistle gave a warning toot, and 
every one scrambled back on the train. 

[ 19 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


Were you ever on a train that had 
three engines, two to pull and one to 
push ? Often the track took such a sud- 
den turn as it zigzagged in and out 
around the mountains, that Harry could 
look out of the window and see two 
monster engines ahead and then look 
back and see another behind. At those 
times the train was always going up very 
steep places where the engines had to 
work hard and make a great fuss over 
moving the heavy cars at all. 

By and by they rushed on into Arizona. 
At one station Harry saw two Indians 
get on the smoking car. Of course, Teddy 
and he at once ran forward to see who 
they were, where they came from, and 
where they were going. You may im- 
agine the boys’ delight when they fonnd 
[ 20 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


that the older of the two Indians was a 
real chief named Manakaja. Harry asked 
him a dozen questions, but the old fellow 
shook his head and said, “ Me no sapo- 
gee ” (understand). The other Indian 
answered for him. “We Havasupai ; 
Manakaja he go Indian School to see 
all chillun.” 

He then told the children that he be- 
longed to the “ People of the Blue Water ” 
(which is the meaning of the word Hava- 
supai) and that they lived in a deep 
canyon. He couldn’t speak English very 
well, but he made the boys understand 
that the walls of the canyon rose straight 
up on both sides and that the road to 
it lay over narrow and perilous trails. 

When it came time for the old chief 
and his friend to leave the train, Harry 
[ 21 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


and Teddy shook hands with them both, 
then waved frantically to them as they 
turned into the path which led up to the 
fine brick buildings of the school. 

“Just think, Teddy,” shouted Harry, 
jumping up and down, “ we’ve seen a 
real live Indian chief! Now let’s run 
and tell mamma.” 

“ If you two monkeys can keep still for 
a minute I will tell you something else 
about the Havasupai,” said Mrs. Baldwin. 

“ We will, we will,” came in chorus. 

“ Once upon a time these Indians were 
cliff dwellers, that is, they lived . in caves 
dug out of the cliffs, which rose from 
the river straight up to the sky. Their 
houses must have been quite safe from 
enemies or wild animals, but how do you 
suppose they got in and out themselves? ” 
[ 22 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


“ I guess they must have had great 
long ladders,” suggested Harry, “ but I 
don’t see what the little children did.” 

“ Of one thing I am certain,” continued 
Mrs. Baldwin, “and that is this, — the 
children must have been taught to mind 
perfectly. Suppose a little boy had been 
looking at something and walking back- 
ward near the edge of the cliff, and his 
mother had said, ‘ Stop ! ’ and he hadn’t ! 
Now, since most of the people live at 
the bottom of their canyon, the children 
don’t mind well at all, I am sorry to say. 
They wear very few clothes, or none at 
all, which is most convenient when they 
want to go in swimming in the pools 
formed by the river. Both the girls and 
boys learn to swim just as easily as little 
animals do, and have great fun running 
[ 23 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


about playing ball with some hard gourds, 
dashing up and down on their ponies, 
then jumping into the water for a swim. 
A few years ago they never went to 
school at all.” 

“ That must have been fine ! ” ex- 
claimed Teddy. 

“You may think so now, my dear, but 
you would soon grow tired of having 
nothing real to do.” 

“ Manakaja has all his children in 
the Indian School,” put in Harry. “ One 
squaw and thirteen children all there 
together. It seems like the old woman 
that lived in a shoe.” 

“ Boys,” said Mr. Baldwin, coming up, 
“ in one hour we must get off the train.” 

“Oh, papa!” begged Harry, “can’t 
Teddy come too? His grandfather has 
[ 24 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


never seen him, so I don’t believe he’ll 
care.” 

“No, dear, I am afraid he can’t,” re- 
plied Mr. Baldwin, as he took one little 
fellow on each knee. “ It would be like 
kidnapping if we took him with us, and 
the county sheriff would be after us. 
Arizona and California are so near to- 
gether that you are sure to meet again. 
Perhaps next summer we shall go to the 
coast for a breath of sea air and perhaps 
Teddy can go with us.” 

“ Won’t that be fun ! ” exclaimed 
Harry, with such a flourish that he 
went flying out into the aisle. Every 
one laughed as he got up rubbing his 
head. 

“ Now let’s all pack up,” said Mrs. 
Baldwin. “We haven’t any too much 
[ 25 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


time. You boys may fill Harry’s little 
suit case with all his games and books.” 

They were kept so busy that when the 
train actually stopped at Wallapai Springs 
they had forgotten to feel badly about 
the parting and were ready with smiling 
faces to say good-by. 

Nevertheless, as the train pulled out of 
the station two big tears trickled down 
Harry’s cheeks, and Teddy turned away 
from the window with a gulp. There, 
right before him on the seat, what do 
you suppose he saw? A really, truly 
surprise, — two boxes of crackers, a box 
of peppermints, and a beautiful book. 
On top of the book was a little note 
from his new aunt. “ Try to be brave,” 
it said; “go to bed early, and by break- 
fast time you will have reached Los 
[ 26 ] 


ACROSS THE COUNTRY 


Angeles and your grandfather, who, I am 
sure, will be very happy to see his little 
boy. Don’t forget us, and before long we 
shall meet again.” 


[27] 


CHAPTER II 


WALLAPAI SPRINGS 

T his is the queerest old town 
I ever saw,” exclaimed Harry, 
as he sank down, hot and 
tired, on the dilapidated steps of the 
hotel porch. “ Why, it’s nothing but a 
few homely wooden and ’dobe houses 
stuck right down on the sand. And 
goodness ! Look at the windmills ! See 
how they are whirling and bobbing 
around every which way. I don’t see 
what they’re for. At the farm where 
we were last summer they had windmills 
to pump water, but you said there wasn’t 
any water here, papa.” 

[ 28 ] 


WALLAPAI SPRINGS 


“ That is all quite true, but in spite 
of what I said there is water in Wallapai 
Springs, or rather under it. Away down 
below somewhere there is a lake, so that 
all the lucky people of this town have to 
do is to pump up the water into big 
tanks from which they can draw off what 
they want to use in their houses or to 
water their tiny gardens.” 

“I don’t see how they found out the 
water was there.” 

“ Just in the same way, my dear, that 
they have found many other things that 
were buried in the ground. Every one in 
the place is hunting and digging for 
something, — gold, silver, copper, lead, 
and water, — always water.” 

“ Well, I’m hunting for something my- 
self, daddy, and I might as well tell you 
[ 29 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


now that it’s gold. I’m going to find a 
really, truly mine, and I’m going to dig 
out lumps and lumps of gold so that we 
can be rich and have all the ponies we 
want.” 

“That will be fine, Harry, but please 
buy me a horse. I should be so conspicu- 
ous on a pony ; my feet would touch the 
ground, you see.” 

“ Anyway it would be nice for the 
pony,” laughed Harry, “because you 
could just walk right along and he 
wouldn’t get a bit tired. But I will buy 
you a horse if you would rather. Isn’t 
it almost lunch time? I feel so empty ! ” 

“ I should say so,” answered Mr. Bald- 
win, consulting his watch; “skip up and 
tell mamma we are waiting for her, and 
you might as well wash your hands, if 
[ 80 ] 


WALLAPAI SPRINGS 


you think you can do it without taking 
cold.” 

Presently the whole family walked 
down the rickety board sidewalk to the 
place where they had their meals. You 
could never guess what it was, even if 
you tried ever so hard. A Chinese 
restaurant ! 

There was a funny, jolly Chinaman 
named Tee, who had charge of it, and 
whenever he saw Harry he would go 
trotting down to shake hands with him. 
Then, when the small boy was seated at 
the table, he would say, “Loas beef, 
loas pork, veal cutlet,” and so on through 
a long list of things. If any one spoke 
to him in the middle of the speech, he 
would have to go back and begin all over 
again. He would end every time with 
[ 31 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“Hot cake, kid?” at which every one 
always laughed. Sometimes when Harry 
had eaten lots of meat and potato he did 
have the hot cake, temptingly brown, 
and floating in a sea of maple syrup. 

Between meal-times, when his father 
and mother were busy, Harry ran about 
like the bear that went over the moun- 
tain, “ to see what he could see.” But 
before he had time to see or to find any- 
thing, the boys of Wallapai Springs had 
found him. There were very many of 
them, big and little, all fighters, and all 
disliking Harry because he came from 
the East and wore clothes that were dif- 
ferent from theirs. If you will believe it, 
they actually ran after him on the street, 
shouting “ Tenderfoot ! Tenderfoot ! ” 

Of course, Harry hated that, and at 
[ 82 ] 


WALLAPAI SPRINGS 


once called a family council to see what 
could be done. It was at last decided 
that some miner’s clothes might help 
matters, and in another hour any one 
would have taken Harry for a genuine 
Arizonian, dressed as he was in brown 
khaki overalls, a blue cotton shirt, and a 
wide felt hat. He flatly refused to wear 
a necktie. The Arizona children didn’t 
wear them, and he wished to be as much 
like them as possible. 

That afternoon when he came in from 
playing, his father and mother asked 
anxiously how the boys had treated 
him. 

He looked very flerce as he burst out, 
“ They kept right on teasing me, but I 
didn’t say a word till they tried to shove 
me off my seat.” 


[ 33 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ Well, what did you do then ? ” his 
father asked. 

“ Oh, I fought two, and I guess they’ll 
let me alone now. But don’t touch me, 
I’m just sore all over.” 

It proved that Harry was right about 
the boys ; from that time on they were 
all most friendly. 

One morning a very kind man lent 
Harry a burro to ride. The poor beast 
was old and much too big for the little 
chap, whose short legs dangled at least 
ten inches above the stirrups. But it 
was a burro, and he was riding ! After 
he had sat in the saddle patiently for a 
long time, and after he had beaten the 
poor burro furiously, he ran up to the 
hotel porch, exclaiming, “ That is the best 
burro I ever saw for standing still.” He 
[ 34 ] 


WALLAPAI SPRINGS 


was a little hurt when all the men sitting 
about burst out laughing. 

A borrowed burro was well enough, 
but night and day Harry longed to have 
one of his very own. The place was 
searched in vain ; there was not a single 
good burro to be bought. Harry had al- 
most given up the idea of having one, 
when a man rode into town on the very 
prettiest little creature imaginable. Mr. 
Baldwin at once said that he wished to 
buy the burro, but the burro’s master 
replied that he was twenty miles from 
home and didn’t want to walk back. 
Every one thought very hard. At last a 
man was found that intended to drive 
to the burro man’s home. Harry’s father 
paid the first man for the burro, the sec- 
ond man took the first man home, and 
[ 35 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


Harry had the burro. It was something 
like “ The mouse began to gnaw the rope, 
the rope began to hang the butcher,” and 
so on. And this story ended just as hap- 
pily, for in less than an hour Harry had 
a nice little saddle on his Jenny, and was 
riding up and down the street. 

You have very likely been told that 
all burros are slow and obstinate, and 
stupid ; but none of those things are 
true. Of course, some burros may be, 
but so may some horses, or even some 
people. Burros are really very bright, 
so bright that they know in a minute 
when they can take advantage of people. 

Harry’s Jenny was a light gray color, 
which shaded into white on her breast. 
Her long, flopping ears were soft and 
white inside, and her four white feet 
[ 36 ] 



Harry had the Burro . — Page gd 





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were as slender and dainty as possible. 
A black line started at her neck and ran 
down her back, growing narrower all the 
time, until it faded to nothing in the 
brush at the end of her tail ; and from 
shoulder to shoulder ran another black 
line, making a cross. Her large, bright 
eyes saw everything that went on, even 
when she seemed to be looking in the 
opposite direction. Harry thought there 
had never before been such a beautiful 
animal, and all day long he was harness- 
ing, unharnessing, or riding her. She 
learned very soon to like him, and would 
walk up to him, with her big ears for- 
ward in a most knowing way. Of course, 
he always had a lump of sugar or a hand- 
ful of barley for her. 

One day the boys had a splendid 
[ 37 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


time playing circus. They pretended that 
Jenny was a beautiful white horse, and 
that Harry was a wonderful rider in a 
spangled suit. Mounted on Jenny’s back 
he rode round and round the ring, doing 
all sorts of tricks, till, in an unlucky mo- 
ment, he thought he would stand up. 
There was a sudden lurch, and off he fell, 
flat on the ground. It was particularly 
hard ground, too, all covered with sharp 
little stones. Maybe you think that 
Jenny stepped on him, or over him, 
and ran away; but she did nothing of 
the kind. She stood perfectly still, and 
looked sadly at her master until he 
jumped up and scrambled on her back 
again. That is the kind of burro to 
have, I think. 

Besides boys and burros there were 
[ 38 ] 


WALLAPAI SPRINGS 


Indians everywhere in Wallapai Springs, 
lying or crouching on the station plat- 
forms, and sitting along the edges of the 
board sidewalks. Harry soon learned that 
they were cousins of the Havasupai, and 
called Wallapai, which means “ People of 
the Tall Pines.” But after looking all 
about, over the bare mountains, which 
surrounded the town, he confessed that 
he couldn’t see the pines anywhere. 

“Wait a minute,” exclaimed a man 
who had overheard what Harry said. 
“ Look through this glass at the top of 
the mountain yonder. Now do you see 
the pines?” 

“ Those funny little things that look 
like needles?” asked Harry. “I don’t 
see what good they do the Indians when 
they are so far off.” 

[ 39 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ Nothing is too far away for an Ind- 
ian,” answered his friend. “ He will 
travel many miles across the country for 
wood, water, or grass for his horses.” 

“ The Indians I see around here look 
lazy enough,” said Harry, “ and they’re 
so horrible and dirty ! ” 

He had spent half the morning watch- 
ing a group of squaws and children who 
wei’e engaged in chewing old melon rind 
or banana peel, and had returned to 
the hotel much disgusted. He had seen 
nothing even interesting about the flat- 
headed, shaggy-haired creatures clothed 
in old rags, except for their floating cloaks 
of bandana handkerchiefs. Only the wee 
papooses, — the babies in their baskets, 
— had attracted him. 

Once when a through train stopped at 
[ 40 ] 



A Wallapai Baiva or House. — Page 40. 



WALLAPAI SPRINGS 


the station, a squaw picked up her pa- 
poose, basket and all, and ran to the 
platform. Harry followed, anxious to see 
what would happen. The squaw covered 
the baby up snugly with a cloth and 
stood watching the people pouring from 
the train for a breath of fresh air. Soon 
some one spied the papoose basket, and 
in a twinkling a crowd had gathered 
about. “ Let us see the papoose,” the 
people said. Then the wily old squaw 
replied, “ Two bit, two bit,” which means 
twenty-five cents. Some curious woman 
handed out a quarter, and the papoose 
was exhibited to the admiring crowd. 

Mrs. Baldwin wanted very much to 
take some pictures of the Indian houses, 
the squaws, and the papooses. Sujinimi, 
or Indian Jack, the native policeman, 
[ 41 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


said that he would arrange it all for her 
if she would be ready to go with him at 
two o’clock. Promptly at the time ap- 
pointed, Harry, with his father, mother, 
and Sujinimi, drove two or three miles 
out of town to the Indian settlement. 
They stopped in front of Sujinimi’s hawa 
or house, and there saw the very finest 
group for a picture, — two squaws, one 
cooking something in an old pot, sev- 
eral children, and a dear little papoose. 
Harry’s mother got out her camera, when 
presto ! the papoose disappeared from 
view and the squaws crawled flat on the 
ground into the house. Sujinimi, very 
angry, went after them, but came back 
shortly to explain that his squaws had 
been taken sick and couldn’t have their 
pictures taken. He then got together 
[ 42 ] 





Children from the Indian School . — Page 4g . 



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WALLAPAI SPRINGS 


some children from the Indian school. 
You can see them in the picture. The 
boys, as soon as they heard that they 
were to have their photographs taken, 
had gone into Sujinimi’s wooden house, 
which stood next to his hawa, and had 
put on his clothes instead of their own. 
He is the policeman, you remember, so 
that he is among the white people a great 
deal and has had many presents of 
clothes. You can see how dressed up 
the boys felt. I think the one in the 
frock coat and white vest looks funny, 
don’t you? The other children thought 
so and had laughed until they could 
hardly sit still enough to be snapped. 

Another time Mrs. Baldwin tried to 
take a picture of an old squaw named 
Topsy, who was doing some work for her. 

[ 43 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


Topsy had her little grandchild with her 
and the two wonld have made an inter- 
esting picture, but the instant the camera 
was brought out, both of them vanished. 
When at last Mrs. Baldwin had found 
them hiding behind an old shed, she 
asked Topsy why she would not have 
a “ sun picture ” made of her. In a high, 
flat voice, the old squaw replied, “ May 
be so I die, go way, way off,” and she 
waved her arms wildly. 

“But I have had my picture taken 
many times and I’m not dead,” said 
Harry’s mother. 

“You good hico (white) squaw. I no 
good Indian,” answered Topsy. And that 
was the end of it. 

Harry hunted up Sujinimi and asked 
for an explanation of these strange ac- 
[ 44 ] 



SUJINIMI AND SUSQUATAMI, — Page 4^ 


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WALLAPAI SPRINGS 


tions. The old fellow looked rather wseri- 
oiis as he told Harry that when an Indian 
dies all his belongings are burned, and 
that the squaws, who are more ignorant 
than the men and the school children, 
fear that their souls would wander al- 
ways, never going to heaven, if pictures 
of them should remain upon earth. 

Sujinimi and Susquatami (a war chief), 
on the contrary, were pleased and flat- 
tered at being photographed. Susquatami 
doesn’t look very fierce, does he ? 

Harry was surprised to learn that, 
only a few years before, this chief had 
been feared by the white men more than 
any other in the tribe; he, especially, hated 
the beings who had come to steal away 
from his people their land and their 
springs of water. Time and again he 
[ 45 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


had incited the Wallapais to fight: and 
at last, so the story goes, he was riding 
one day over the hills near the town 
when he came suddenly upon a hole in 
the ground; he jumped from his pony and 
looked down. There he saw four men 
at work digging for gold. He looked 
quickly in all directions ; no human be- 
ing was in sight. Noiselessly he crept to 
a pile of rock that had been thrown out 
of the hole, and rolling some of the 
boulders to the edge, he sent them crash- 
ing down upon the heads of the men 
below. More rocks and more he hurled 
down, then gravel, then sand, until those 
wretched men were buried. How happy 
he felt then! The cruel white men were 
killed and the wrongs of his brothers 
avenged. 


[46] 


WALLAPAI SPRINGS 


Next day other white men found Sus- 
quatami and sent him way off to a prison 
where he stayed for several years. There 
he was taught that he had no right to 
kill, and that the United States and the 
“ Great Father,” as the Indians call the 
President, were trying to do all they could 
to protect his people and make them 
happy. When he was sent back to the 
Wallapais he told them that there was no 
use in fighting the white men, for they 
were “ as the sands of the desert.” He 
meant to say that there were as many 
white men as there were grains of sand 
in the desert and that if some were killed 
there would always be more to take their 
places. The Wallapais listened to him 
and said among themselves that they 
would live at peace with the “ pale 
[ 47 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


faces.” Susquatami changed his name 
to Wallapai Charlie, sold his war head- 
dress, and became a kind, pleasant old 
Indian. 

Harry couldn’t help thinking that 
Wallapai Springs must have been a 
much more interesting place when the 
Indians were warlike instead of just 
lazy. 


[ 48 ] 


CHAPTEE III 


THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT 

T he long-looked-for morning came 
at last when Harry with his 
father and mother were to start 
for their mine, one hundred miles from 
Wallapai Springs. Instead of stepping on 
a train and getting there in two or three 
hours, they climbed into a big wagon and 
went out across the desert, just as did the 
pioneers in days gone by. 

Harry thought he was getting up in 
the middle of the night, for it was quite 
dark and only four o’clock when his 
mother woke him and said it was time 
to dress. I am sure you Avere never even 
[ 49 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


awake at such a time unless a bad dream 
had startled you. 

Everything was rush and scurry, with 
a mouthful of breakfast at the China- 
man’s and a hurried start. Perhaps you 
wonder why people should hurry so when 
there was all day before them. They 
were running away from something. No, 
not Indians, not coyotes ; only the heat. 
From the time the sun comes up in the 
morning until it goes down at night, it 
blazes and scorches in the cloudless sky. 
The sand grows burning hot, the light 
becomes more and more blinding, and 
there is not an inch of shade anywhere. 
You can see why Mr. Baldwin wanted to 
make an early start and to get as far as 
possible before the sun was up. 

Harry sat that first morning gazing 
[ 50 ] 


THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT 


wide-eyed through the dusky, purple 
light and almost fancied himself back 
again at the sea-shore. Away off on the 
other side of this ocean of sand he saw 
great mountains, which he thought must 
be as far away as China. The light grew 
slowly brighter, the round, red ball of the 
sun slipped into the sky, and all was 
changed. The sea once more became 
land, brown and yellow; the rough and 
jagged mountains came nearer, while a 
faint haze made lakes here and there, 
which looked cool and inviting. Harry 
was sure they were lakes until he rode 
right over the very places and found 
nothing but dry sand. 

The caravan was composed of two 
wagons, one loaded with provisions, and 
one with beds, bedding, and the baggage 
[ 51 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


of the family. Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin 
rode in the baggage wagon because it 
was the more comfortable, and Harry, 
of course, rode his Jenny. When he 
became tired of the saddle, he would hop 
off and take a run, or else jump into the 
back of the wagon for a rest on a pile of 
Navaho blankets and comforters, which 
had been carefully covered with canvas 
to keep out the dust. 

At first no one knew what to do with 
Jenny when Harry was not riding her. 
They tried tying her to the back of the 
wagon, but a more angry little burro you 
never saw. She gave them a reproachful 
look and stood stock-still. The wagon 
simply dragged her along by main force 
until it seemed as if the rope around her 
neck would choke her to death. 

[ 62 ] 


THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT 


One of the men next suggested that 
she be made to go in front of the horses. 
Harry was sure she would run away, but 
at last consented to try it, and Jenny was 
made the leader. The horses looked suspi- 
ciously at her, but she did not care in the 
least, and trotted off as briskly as possi- 
ble. She knew that she had the best of it, 
for when she was tired she had only to 
stop and the whole procession stopped. 
The horses poked her with their noses 
and the wagon pole bumped into her. 
For a few minutes she stood it patiently, 
then quietly stepped to one side of the 
road and waited in the most unconcerned 
fashion. The only thing to be done was 
for some one to get out of the wagon, lead 
her up to the road, and start her going. 
That happened over and over again; 

[ 53 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


whenever Jenny was tired she took a 
rest, and no one could help it. 

Harry was much excited over his first 
lunch on the desert. Here is a picture 
that will show you very well what hap- 
pened. One man unharnessed the horses 
and gave them their dinner, while an- 
other lighted a fire. Harry was surprised 
to see how quickly a few tiny dry sticks 
turned into a roaring Maze, and how 
quickly the canned beans were sizzling 
in the frying pan, and the coffee boiling 
in the pot. You may wonder what Harry 
had to drink, for we all know that coffee 
isn’t good for little boys. He did have 
something, but I am sorry to say that he 
didn’t like it at all ; it was simply con- 
densed milk, the thick, sweet kind that 
has to be taken out of the can with a 
[ 54 ] 





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THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT 


spoon. A rather fussy small boy found 
it hard to learn that on the desert he 
must eat what was given him, and not 
what he wanted. 

After an hour’s rest the horses were 
harnessed, Jenny was saddled, and a 
fresh start was made. The sun hung 
high in the sky, and the heat became so 
intense that Harry was contented to lie 
in the bottom of the wagon and sleep. 
When he woke, two hours later, he 
couldn’t think where he was; all was 
quiet, except for the crunching of the 
wagon wheels in the sand. Suddenly a 
fearful noise made him rise up on his 
knees to look about. What could be hap- 
pening ? He leaned far out of the wagon 
and, looking ahead, saw Jenny standing 
in the middle of the road with her mouth 
[ 55 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


wide open. She had the queerest bray 
that a burro ever brayed ; it began with 
a whistling sound, rose to an ear-splitting 
noise, then died away in mournful groans. 
Harry felt sure that she was calling him, 
so with a run and a jump he was on her 
back and riding off at a gallop. What 
fun it was to scare the little cottontails 
and the big Jack rabbits out of the brush ! 
The cottontails would give one look and 
hop out of sight, but when Harry shouted 
at the Jack rabbits, the great bony 
creatures would sit up straight, with 
their huge ears standing erect ; very de- 
liberately they would look about them, 
and then disappear in a long bound. 

As Harry rode along he saw the liz- 
ards run from under every clump of cac- 
tus. They were slender little things, and 
[ 66 ] 



Cacti on the Desert . — Page 


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THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT 


vanished before he had time to get a 
good look at them. The horned toads 
were so much slower that Harry was able 
to pick one up for a closer look at the 
funny, humpy fellow. He wondex’ed all 
the time where these ereatures of the 
desert found water to drink; for, in the 
hours that the caravan had been journey- 
ing, no water had been seen, nor the least 
sign of moisture anywhere. There was 
nothing but sand and cactus. 

Have you ever seen a cactus ? 

Here are the pictures of a few that 
Harry saw on the desert. There were 
many different kinds, of all sizes, from a 
tiny burr to a great tree. Some branched 
out like bushes, some grew tall and thin, 
like whips, and still others were round 
and fat like barrels. 

[ 67 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


In this picture of the barrel cactus, do 
you notice the round hole made by some 
animal ? He must have thought that the 
cactus thorns would keep other animals 
from entering his home, but he must also 
have thought out some very cunning way 
of getting in and out himself. 

Mrs. Baldwin pointed out to Harry a 
big, fierce-looking cactus in the very cen- 
tre of which was the nest of a soft, gray 
dove. It was easy for the little boy to 
see how safe the eggs would be, but he 
couldn’t understand how the mother bird 
could ever teach the babies to keep away 
from the prickles. 

Harry had been warned not to touch 
any part of these cruel plants, but, as he 
rode along, a great white blossom came so 
temptingly near that he buried his face 
[ 58 ] 


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THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT 


in it and took a good smell. The next 
minute he was wailing piteously for some 
one to pick the wee little barbs from his 
face. The thorns really were barbed like 
fish-hooks ; they went in easily and came 
out hard, or rather they didn’t come out 
at all, but had to be cut out with a knife. 
Perhaps it was well that Harry learned 
his cactus lesson the first day, for from 
that time on he was careful to keep away 
from everything, whether it appeared to 
have thorns or not. 

Hour after hour went by and Harry 
was beginning to think that they would 
never get anywhere, when one of the 
men shouted, “ There’s the camp ! ” Sure 
enough, way up in a crevice between 
the hills Harry saw a big, red tank and 
some houses. Even then it was a whole 
[ 59 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


hour before the tired horses and poor 
Jenny crept into the little mining town. 

A very weary small boy and a weary 
father and mother were soon asleep in 
the hardest and bumpiest bed ever made. 
Yes, all three in one bed — the only bed 
in town. But to them it seemed as soft 
as down after that long first day on the 
desert. 


[ 60 ] 



% 


A Tall Yucca in the Desert. — Page 6 o. 





CHAPTER IV 


THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF A GOLD MINE 

W HAT are the men harnessing 
up for ? ” asked Harry the 
next morning as he ran about 
to take a general survey. “ I thought 
you said we were to stay here two or 
three days.” 

“ Well, we are,” answered Mr. Baldwin, 
“ but I am sending the men ahead with 
the provisions. They have to go so 
slowly that we can almost catch up.” 

“ 0 goody ! ” exclaimed Harry, “ then 
just you and mamma and I can go all 
alone. I’ll be lots of help, for I can 
harness Jenny and help with the horses, 
[ 61 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


and everything. We wouldn’t get lost, 
would we ? ” 

“No, indeed, old man,” said his father. 
“ Jones has given me full directions and 
all we have to do is to keep on the 
beaten trail. Eun along now, Harry, and 
take care of mamma, because I must go 
over the hills to look at a mine.” 

“ Oh, papa ! A real mine ? Please 
take me. I’ll be so good and quiet,” 
begged the little boy. 

“ That isn’t the point this time ; I’m 
afraid you would get too tired,” an- 
swered Mr. Baldwin, “ but ask your 
mother and you may go if she says so.” 

Harry returned with a beaming face 
and was soon tramping along with three 
or four men. The walking was hard, and 
every few minutes Harry stubbed his toes 
[ 62 ] 


THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF A GOLD MINE 


or stumbled over a rock; but with strides 
nearly as long as his father’s, he trudged 
bravely on. Over the top of the hills 
they climbed, and down the other side 
to the mine. 

I wonder if you know at all what a 
mine is like. Of course, there are big 
mines that are almost like cities of 
streets inside the earth ; and there are 
small mines, such as Harry saw. Picture 
to yourself a tall office building under- 
neath the ground, instead of on top. The 
deep hole down which the elevator goes 
is called the shaft, and in most mines 
there really is an elevator running up 
and down. Then from the shaft run 
passageways like the halls of the build- 
ing, and these are called levels ; from the 
levels are cut out rooms, and those are 
[ 63 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


called slopes. Do you see how it is? 
The rooms were once filled with ore, 
— that is, the rock which carried the 
gold. It has all been dug out, taken 
down the levels to the shaft, and then 
up in the elevator to the surface of the 
ground. 

The mine that Harry went to see 
wasn’t even big enough to have an ele- 
vator, but had, instead, a huge bucket 
that was let slowly down by machinery, 
and then brought slowly up again. As 
soon as Harry caught a glimpse of that 
bucket, there was only one idea in his 
mind, and that was to get into it himself 
and go down. The men looked very 
doubtful about it and asked Harry’s 
father if he could trust his little boy to 
keep still. 


[ 64 ] 


THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF A GOLD MINE 


“Yes, yes,” shouted Harry. “I won’t 
move a muscle if you will only let me 
go.” 

In another minute he had climbed 
into the bucket and was hanging in the 
air over the great hole in the ground. 
His heart thumped hard and seemed to 
jump into his throat, but with a hand 
grasping the rim of the bucket on each 
side, he crouched, motionless. Gradually 
he was lowered down, down, while the 
light faded till he could see only a small 
round patch of sky, way up above. He 
had decided that he couldn’t stand it 
another minute, when the bucket stopped, 
and a gruff voice said, “What are you 
doing here?^’ 

That scared him more than ever ; but 
when he looked up, he saw, by the light 
[ 65 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


of a candle, that a very pleasant-looking 
man was lifting him out. 

“ By gum,” the man continued, 
“ you’re quite a man. Think of takin’ 
on a little minin’ property ? Come right 
over here and I’ll show you the best ore 
in Mohave County. Keep lookin’ where 
you’re walkin’ all the time, and see to 
it that you don’t bump your head on the 
rocks stickin’ out from the wall.” 

Harry crept cautiously after the man 
into a long, dark tunnel. The faint 
spark of candle-light made it seem all 
the darker. At last they stopped, the 
man stuck his candlestick into a crack, 
and began with a small hammer to break 
off pieces of rock. No doubt, you think 
he must have had a queer candlestick. 
It was just a piece of iron with some 
[ 66 ] 


THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF A GOLD MINE 


claws at one end to hold the candle, and 
a sharp point at the other. When the 
point was stuck into the rock, there it 
stayed. 

The first piece of rock that the man 
broke off he handed Harry, saying, “ What 
do you see? ” 

Harry turned it over and over. “ That 
shiny stuff must be gold, I think,” he 
answered. 

“ Ha, ha, ha, I thought Fd catch you,” 
the man laughed. “ It’s nothin’ but 
iron pyrites ; the miners call it ‘ fool’s 
gold.’ Just you wait a minute, and I’ll 
show you the real thing.” 

Then he hammered off another little 
piece and looked at it carefully. 

“Come here, boy, do you see those 
white crystals? Now look at the nest 
[ 67 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


in the middle of them. There she is, as 
sure as you’re born.” 

Harry looked closely, and there he 
saw some wee specks of pale yellow. 

“ Is that the gold? ” he burst out. 

“ That it is,” said his companion, “ and 
a dandy specimen, at that. Take it to 
your dad and tell him you think you’ll 
buy the mine.” 

“ Papa has a mine, already,” answered 
Harry, “and I’m going to find one for 
myself. You see, if I find my own, I 
shan’t have to pay anything for it.” 

“ That’s right, too,” said the man, 
smiling. “ But it won’t have tunnels and 
shafts all ready made in it.” 

Harry liked the rough old fellow, and 
felt sorry when he heard a faint shouting 
and knew that he would have to go. 

[ 68 ] 


THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF A GOLD MINE 


Later, as Harry was climbing the rocks 
on his way back to camp, his sharp eyes 
saw a strange-looking creature lying under 
a stone, where it had thought itself safely 
hidden. 

“It’s a baby alligator,” he shouted. 
“ No, it’s a monstrous lizard.” 

One of the men called quickly, “ It’s a 
Gila (Hela) monster ; don’t go near it ! ” 

Harry stood quite still with his eyes 
glued on the horrid beast, which stared 
back at him with its wicked little eyes. 
It was about eighteen inches long, of 
a light brown color, and covered with 
humpy scales. Harry thought he had 
never seen such a cruel-looking creature. 
His father told him that it was as bad as 
it looked; its bite very poisonous, and 
even its breath supposed to be so. 

[ 69 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


This queer lizard interested Harry so 
much that when he got back to camp, he 
drew a picture of it to send to his little 
cousins. 

“ Mamma,” said Harry that night while 
he was struggling to get away from the 
wash-cloth, “ I’m seeing lots of new 
things. I guess the boys at home would 
like to see a gold mine and a Gila monster 
all in one day ! ” 


[ 70 ] 


CHAPTER V 


A NAREOW ESCAPE 

M r. Baldwin shook each canteen 
several times, then looked 
seriously at Harry as he said, 
“ No, dear, you can’t have any more 
water.” 

“ Please, please, papa, just one drink. 
I’m so thirsty ! ” begged Harry. 

“ Not this time, boy. Just look at the 
canteens ; your little one is empty, the 
big one is empty, and the last one is only 
half full. But I will give you something 
that will do almost as well as water. 
Get me a lemon from the square box.” 
Harry hunted for a long time in the 
[ 71 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


dusty bottom of the wagon, and at last 
stood up with a dust-coated lemon in his 
hand. 

“That’s right,” said his father; “now 
shine it up and then I will cut it in 
two. There ! Now you have something 
that will keep you from being thirsty.” 

Harry made a wry face at the first 
taste of the sugarless lemon, but soon 
found that he liked it well enough to 
forget for a time the dryness of his throat 
and mouth. 

All the long, weary afternoon he had 
sat between his father and mother, some- 
times sleeping for a while, then waking to 
look in a half-dazed way at the burning 
stretches of sand. 

“Won’t we ever get anywhere?” he 
asked at length, with a sigh. “ I believe 
[ 72 ] 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


we’ve been ’most twenty hours on this 
trail, and now I see it running straight 
ahead to the place where the earth and 
sky meet.” 

“ It’s five o’clock,” said Mrs. Baldwin. 
“ I feel much as Harry does ; surely I 
heard Jones say, ‘Keep straight ahead, 
and if you go two and a half miles an 
hour, you ought to make camp by six 
o’clock.’ ” 

“ Well, it looks to me as if we couldn’t 
have gone our two and a half miles, then, 
for there is no sign of anything any- 
where,” replied Mr. Baldwin. 

“ I think the camp is behind that hill,” 
exclaimed Harry. 

“I am sure it’s between those moun- 
tains,” said his mother. 

“ And I am equally sure that it is be- 
[ 78 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


yond that point of rock,” spoke up his 
father. 

Harry felt as if they were playing a 
game, and grew more and more excited 
in his anxiety to find out who would win. 
But they passed the hill, then the moun- 
tains, and rounded the point ; still there 
was no camp, and their road ran on ahead 
as far as they could see. 

“ It’s after six, now,” exclaimed Mr. 
Baldwin; “we must stop and rest the 
horses awhile, or they will drop in their 
tracks. Here, Harry, help me loosen the 
harness a little. That’s good ; now we 
will give them all the water there is for 
them.” 

He picked up a big water-can and 
poured the water, chug-chug, into the 
bucket that was always ready. The 
[ 74 ] 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


horses, in turn, put their noses to the 
water, then turned away. Mr. Baldwin 
held the bucket up to them over and 
over again, but no kind words or pats 
would induce the tired creatures to drink. 

“ That is the strangest thing I ever 
saw,” said Mr. Baldwin, at last giving 
up. “ The poor beasts must be thirsty, 
and I’m not enough of a desert tramp 
to know what the trouble is.” 

The horses did at least consent to 
munch their alfalfa and barley, and, 
while they were busy about it, Harry 
and his mother sat on the warm sand 
and looked off toward the west, where 
the rapidly sinking sun was tingeing the 
mountains with soft shades of pink and 
violet. The great stillness was over all 
things, — a stillness which made Harry 
[ 75 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


feel as he did in the dense woods — that 
no one must speak. 

“ Mamma,” he whispered, after a long 
time, “I can see the air. Can you? It 
is quivering over there.” 

“ Yes, dear,” she answered, “ it is the 
heat that makes the wavering. Look, 
Harry, at that huge bird circling round 
and round. What wonderful sweeps he 
makes, always nearer the earth ! He is 
watching something; look closely! — now 
he swoops down to the ground.” 

“Is it an eagle, mamma?” 

“ No, only a buzzard. When he is cir- 
cling in the air, he is looking for food.” 

“What do you think he found then? ” 
asked Harry. 

“ Very likely some poor cow that had 
died of thirst. Perhaps she had gone 
[ 76 ] 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


twenty miles to a spot where she thought 
there was a spring of water, and had 
found only dry sand.” 

“ I don’t like that, mamma ; please 
tell me something pleasant,” shuddered 
Harry. 

“ It’s time to start,” called Mr. Bald- 
win. “ Come, Harry, and help me har- 
ness up.” 

The small boy led one of the big horses 
in front of the wagon, shoved him into 
place, then hooked the chain to the whif- 
fietree. The horse looked down curiously 
at the little fellow, as if he thought that 
he must be playing. Next, there was 
Jenny to attend to. That day she hadn’t 
had her saddle on at all, and was so 
frisky, in spite of the heat, that Harry 
felt tempted to jump on her back and 
[ 77 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


ride for a while. But his father said that 
every one must be in the wagon so that 
there should be no delay of any kind. 
Every moment counts, when water is low. 

“We surely ought to reach camp in 
an hour,” Mr. Baldwin exclaimed, as he 
started the horses. “ Follow the beaten 
track was our only direction, and we cer- 
tainly have done that. There goes the 
sun, — going, going, gone ! Now we shall 
at least be cool.” 

The horses crept, rather than walked, 
and at every tug the wagon seemed to 
sink deeper in the soft sand. 

Harry leaned against his mother’s 
shoulder until the sandman, who is most 
at home on the desert, closed the little 
boy’s eyelids, and bobbed his tired head 
back and forth. Then two strong arms 
[ 78 ] 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


lifted him gently and laid him in a soft 
little nest. 

On and on they jolted into the gather- 
ing dusk, but still there was nothing to 
be seen, except here and there an uncer- 
tain and indistinct trail, which branched 
off toward the mountains. 

Suddenly Mr. Baldwin pulled up the 
horses, who were only too ready to 
stop. 

“ I believe we’re on the wrong road,” 
he exclaimed, peering ahead into the 
dusk. In a moment he jumped from the 
wagon and ran ahead, examining the trail 
with great care ; then he turned and ran 
back for some distance over the way they 
had come. 

“ What do you find?” called Mrs. Bald- 
win, anxiously. 


[79] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ I find that there is a well-defined 
trail here which goes toward the hills; I 
feel sure we should take it.” 

“But Jones said ‘the beaten track,’ 
and that must mean this one : we have 
seen ever so many faint trails ; perhaps 
that leads to some deserted camp.” 

“It might, but I have a slight re- 
membrance of hearing some one say that 
there was a direct road to Chloride ; if so, 
we must be on it.” 

“ Couldn’t we keep on to Chloride ? ” 

“ Goodness, no ! It must be at least 
forty miles away. We’ve got to turn off 
to the left, and this trail shows marks of 
recent travel.” 

“ But suppose it’s the wrong one? ” 

“Then,” replied Mr. Baldwin, look- 
ing steadily at his wife as he came 
[ 80 ] 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


up to the wagon, “ then we should be 
lost.” 

“We are lost now, as far as I can see,” 
she said tremulously. “ Oh, why did we 
ever risk starting alone ! ” 

“ Come, my dear, keep up your nerve, 
you may need all you have,” exclaimed 
Mr. Baldwin, firmly. He called to the 
horses to start, but this time the poor 
beasts were unable even to move their 
load. The only thing to be done was for 
Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin to dig two trenches 
in which the wagon wheels could run for 
a short distance, and then to jounce upon 
the spokes of the wheels until they 
started. The horses, after ten minutes 
of straining, laboriously turned the 
wagon about and dragged it back again 
to the new trail, where progress was 
[ 81 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


begun again, though now in almost total 
darkness. 

An hour crept by and the bright half- 
moon shone forth at last. The two 
weary people looked eagerly in every 
direction for the camp, but only the 
sand lay on all sides, white in the moon- 
light, while almost in front of them rose 
the bare mountains. 

“The horses can’t go more than five 
miles farther,” said Mr. Baldwin. “ We 
have no water for them and only half a 
canteenful for ourselves. If worst comes 
to worst, we shall have to leave the wagon 
and walk on with the horses.” 

“ What if the horses give out ? ” 

“ Then we shall have to leave them, 
take what little food there is, and tramp 
on alone.” 


[ 82 ] 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


“But Harry couldn’t walk far,” said 
the little boy’s mother, with a catch in 
her voice as she spoke of him. 

“No, I shall have to carry him ; we will 
keep on this road till we are sure that 
it isn’t the right one, then turn back and 
do the best we can. If the sun finds us 
wandering on this desert, — God help us ! ” 
Mrs. Baldwin made no answer, for she 
knew too well that unless camp was 
reached in a few hours, they would never 
see their home or their friends again. 

For two more long hours they sat silent, 
peering into the moonlight, till every 
cactus seemed to be a man or a post. 
Mrs. Baldwin at last fixed her gaze upon 
one especially tall tree, and as they neared 
it she failed to see at its top the sharp 
spikes that she had expected. 

[ 83 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ What is it ? ” she gasped, seizing 
her husband’s arm. In an instant Mr. 
Baldwin leaped from the wagon and ran 
toward it. To the terrified woman it 
seemed as if he ran on for an hour, but 
it was really only a few seconds when he 
called back, — 

“ It’s a post, a sign-post, and we’re on 
the right road ! ” 

“ Oh, John ! ” was all she could say, 
but for very joy she buried her face in 
her hands and cried as if her heart would 
break. 

And all this time Harry was sleeping 
soundly, very likely dreaming that he 
was at home in Boston. He never even 
knew when the horses crawled into the 
still, dark camp. His father drove into 
the corral, unharnessed, fed, and watered 
[ 84 ] 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


the horses, who were now only too glad 
to drink. Next, he got out and unfolded 
some canvas cots, upon which he threw 
the comforters. Last of all, he lifted 
Harry out of the wagon. 

“ You may sleep in your clothes to- 
night, dear,” he said. 

“Goody,” murmured Harry, half asleep. 
“ I always wanted to. We got here, didn’t 
we ? I told you the camp was just be- 
hind that hill.” With a groan of satis- 
faction he settled into the comforters, and 
was soon in dreamland again. 

You may imagine how surprised the 
camp people were in the morning to find 
a whole family asleep in the corral. The 
men were much interested in Mr. Bald- 
win’s story, of where he had come from, 
and where he was going, but looked very 
[ 85 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


grave when they heard how near he and 
his family had come to being lost. 

“You’re in luck to be here,” one old 
fellow exclaimed. “ Eleven men have 
died on that road.” 

“But we were all right,” Harry spoke 
up ; “I told papa exactly where the camp 
was.” 

At this point, up came a man who said 
to Mr. Baldwin, with a grin, “Did your 
horses like the water you gave them yes- 
terday? Wouldn’t touch it, hey? Well, 
I thought as much. There was a dead 
mouse in the can.” 

“ Oh, the poor little thing,” cried 
Harry, “ he must have gone to get a 
drink of water.” 

“Well, I rather guess he got all he 
wanted,” laughed the man, in a very 
[ 86 ] 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


heartless fashion. “ So you’re the boy 
that’s crossin’ the desert,” he continued. 
“ After last night, you’ve sure got over 
bein’ a tenderfoot.” 


[87] 


CHAPTER VI 


CAMP AT LAST 

W ASH is a pretty queer name 
for a road,” exclaimed Harry, 
as he joggled about in the 
wagon which was jolting down, down, 
down to the Colorado River. “ And why 
anything should be called a ‘Wash’ when 
there isn’t any water near it, I don’t see.” 

“ Well, you would see very quickly if 
a storm should come,” answered his 
father. “ All of a sudden a big wave, 
eight or ten feet high, would rush around' 
that curve and, unless we ran for our 
lives, we should be washed down to the 
river.” 


[ 88 ] 


CAMP AT LAST 


“Oh, papa! You don’t think it will 
come now, do you ? ” asked Harry, look- 
ing anxiously around. 

“ No, indeed, not to-day. I have 
watched the sky very carefully, and 
there hasn’t been a cloud anywhere. This 
travelling in the washes is dangerous 
work, but there are no trails over the 
mountains, and as the water has oblig- 
ingly found the shortest way to the river, 
we might as well make the best of it.” 

“ What a funny place we’re coming to 
now,” exclaimed the small boy. “ It’s just 
like a box, isn’t it, mamma? See how 
the rocks go straight up to the sky 1 Per- 
haps a big giant will come and put the 
cover on, and then we can’t get out till a 
princess or a fairy shows us a secret pas- 
sage through the cliffs.” 

[ 89 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ I hope the cover won’t be put on 
to-day,” laughed Mrs. Baldwin, “ but if a 
good fairy should appear, and should 
grant me one wish, I know what it would 
be.” 

“ What, mamma ? ” 

“ Only that we may reach Rioville and 
sleep in a really, truly bed to-night.” 

“ Do you think I would do for a 
fairy? ” asked Mr. Baldwin. “ At all 
events, I can try. Both of you shut your 
eyes and keep them shut until I say the 
word.” 

Harry had to hold his hands tight over 
his eyes for fear that the jolting of the 
wagon would pop them open. After a 
few minutes the horses stopped and Mr. 
Baldwin called, “ Now open ! ” 

Harry and his mother were amazed to 
[ 90 ] 



The Colorado River . — Page gi 



CAMP AT LAST 


see spread before them a wonderful pano- 
rama, — rolling hills, distant mountains, 
towering to the sky, and far below a 
mighty, rushing river, along whose banks 
ran narrow ribbons of green, the first 
green they had seen for three days. 

As Harry looked closely down the 
winding trail that lay before them, his 
sharp eyes fell upon a man on horseback 
some distance below. “ Do you suppose 
we have been following him all day ? ” 
he asked his father. 

“ Yes, I believe we have. Don’t you 
remember that I spoke of footprints 
which looked fresh ? I am glad we didn’t 
overtake the man, as he might have been 
disagreeable or unfriendly; now he will 
help us out by calling up the ferryman 
(his name is Grant, I think), so that 
[ 91 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


everything will be ready for us when we 
get to the river.” 

“ Isn’t it fun that we’re going over 
the river in a ferry ? ” exclaimed Harry. 
“Aren’t you glad, mamma? The water 
will swash around, and we’ll think we’re 
at the seashore again.” 

“ Perhaps it will seem like the sea, 
dear, and I am sure it will be exciting 
enough to please even you; but I, for my 
part, shall be glad when we are safely 
landed in Nevada. The other bank of 
the river is Nevada, you know, Harry.” 

“How queer it is, mamma, that one 
State should look just like another.” 

“ They may look alike from here,” put 
in Mr. Baldwin, “but these two States 
are very different, as you will know when 
you see the great granite mountains 
[ 92 ] 


CAMP AT LAST 


across the river. Well, here we are. 
Now for a word with the man on the 
horse ; he has called the ferryman, as I 
said he would. Don’t you see the ferry 
coming over ? ” 

Mr. Baldwin and the strange man, who 
proved upon closer inspection to be a 
cowboy with wide sombrero and shaggy 
trousers, stood talking and laughing 
together until the ferry slid over the 
soft mud and crunched on the pebbly 
shore. 

“ Hello, Jim,” the ferryman shouted 
to the cowboy, “ what are you doin’ 
here ? ” 

“ Goin’ home this time. Grant. Cow 
business is no good any more. I’d take 
to the woods if there was any ’round. 
Mebbe the old man will have a job for 
[ 98 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


me. I hope we ain’t goin’ to have trouble 
gettin’ these horses on the ferry. It looks 
to me like it was the first time they ever 
saw one.” 

And, indeed, he might well have felt 
anxious about Mr. Baldwin’s horses, for 
both of them held their heads high in 
the air and, with ears pricked up, turned 
from side to side, sniffing and snorting. 
Mr. Baldwin and Jim tried in turn to 
drive the terrified creatures on to the 
ferry, but it was of no use ; they simply 
backed and plunged until it seemed as if 
a shaft or the harness must surely break. 
Grant at last took the reins and, after 
fitteen minutes of talking, coaxing, and 
petting, finally induced the frightened 
horses to step on to the raft-like boat. 

This ferry was very different from any 
[ 94 ] 


CAMP AT LAST 


you have ever seen, for it didn’t go 
by steam, and it wasn’t rowed across. 
Stretched over the river from shore to 
shore was a strong wire cable to which 
two other cables were attached, one from 
each end of the boat. These were joined 
to the big cable by wheels that ran easily 
back and forth whichever way the ferry 
moved. 

When the wagon had been shoved into 
place, the cowboy led on his pony ; then 
Harry tried to follow with Jenny, but 
she took it into her head to perform just 
as the horses had. I wish you could 
have seen how surprised she looked when 
Grant tied a rope around her four feet 
and simply yanked her into the boat. I 
am sure she thought it very undignified 
treatment. 


[95] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


When everything was ready for the 
start, the cable at the back (it was so 
unlike a real boat that I can’t say stern) 
was let out so that the ferry pointed 
diagonally up-stream ; then the rapid 
current of the river pushed the boat 
along, as the wind pushes the sails of 
a sail-boat. The water bubbled and 
gurgled while the ferry swayed and 
tipped. Harry, instead of enjoying the 
fun, was quite content to stand close to 
his mother, who held him firmly for 
fear he might be thrown out. Slowly 
the clumsy boat with its heavy freight 
made headway until it was in midstream, 
where the fiercely rushing torrent roared 
madly in the effort to drag it from its 
cables. 

“ Isn’t there any danger of a cable’s 
[ 96 ] 


CAMP AT LAST 


breaking?” called Mrs. Baldwin to Grant, 
who stood at the back of the boat pulling 
at a mammoth oar, which served as a 
sort of rudder. 

“ Never had one break yet,” he replied, 
“ and this isn’t likely to be the first 
time.” 

The words were hardly out of his mouth 
when there was a sharp crack, then whiz- 
zing and circling above their heads flew 
the rear cable, which in some way had 
slipped from the wheel. In a moment all 
was confusion. Jenny squealed, the pony 
jumped, while the horses leaped and 
backed until it seemed that the wagon 
with everything in it must surely go over 
into the river. Jim, the cowboy, ran to 
Mr. Baldwin’s assistance, yanking and 
tugging at the horses. The pony, freed 
[ 97 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


from his master’s hand, looked wildly 
about, then with one leap cleared the rail 
and disappeared in the raging flood. 
There was no time to help ; before any 
one could even look for a rope, the unfor- 
tunate pony had been carried far away by 
the terrible river. No one screamed or 
made a sound ; every one was needed to 
prevent a worse catastrophe, for the great 
cart-horses strained and pulled in their 
efforts to follow the pony. 

All this time Grant, with Mrs. Baldwin 
and Harry, had been struggling with the 
huge oar, which was now their only means 
of keeping the boat headed in the right 
direction. When they had become nearly 
exhausted, an eddy of the current took 
the ferry, and bearing it swiftly along 
swung it in to the shore. 

[ 98 ] 


CAMP AT LAST 


With the grating of the boat on 
land, the cowboy seemed for the first 
time to realize that his pony had 
gone. He stood as if tnrned to stone, 
staring into the river ; finally, almost 
under his breath, he murmured, “ Dick 
gone, my good Dick, and the saddle that 
my old partner gave me. What can I 
do now ? ” 

Harry, with the tears streaming down 
his face, watched the poor fellow anx- 
iously; at last he crept up to him and 
tugging at his sleeve, whispered, “ You 
can have my Jenny, saddle and all.” 
The man looked down at the small boy, 
then without a word put his arms around 
him and hugged him tight. 

“ No, I won’t take your burro,” he said, 
after a minute, “but now that I’m 
[ 99 ] 


Lore. 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


stranded, mebbe your dad can give me 
a job.” 

“ Of course he will,” exclaimed Harry, 
delightedly. “ You can ride right in the 
wagon with us, and now I can have a real 
cowboy for a friend.” 

“The only trouble is,” said Mr. Bald- 
win, “ that we haven’t any cows. Are 
you a miner, too ? ” 

“You bet,” answered Jim. “ I can 
put in a round of holes as well as the next 
man, and I’d be proud to wmrk for you.” 

So it was all settled and, though the 
cowboy had lost a pony, he gained several 
new and stanch friends. 

Rioville, you remember, was the place 
where the Baldwins intended to spend 
the night. They had looked it up on the 
map and found it plainly marked in 
[ 100 ] 


CAMP AT LAST 


the little point of Nevada on the north 
bank of the Colorado Eiver. They were 
all anxious to get into the town and, as 
Grant had to stay at the shore to repair 
his cable, he told them to drive on till 
they came to his house, where his wife 
would be glad to see them. Around 
several turns they went till they came 
all of a sudden upon a big stone house. 
The crunching of the wagon wheels soon 
brought Mrs. Grant to the door, and out 
she ran to meet them as if they had been 
her long-lost cousins. 

“ Come right in,” she exclaimed ; “it 
does my heart good to see another woman, 
and the baby will be tickled to death over 
the little boy. Sit down and make your- 
selves at home while I run out and get 
some supper for you.” 

[ 101 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“We bad intended to go on to Eioville, 
to-night,” said Mr. Baldwin, “ and I bate 
to have you bother about supper for us.” 

“ Eioville ! ” she exclaimed. “ Where 
do you think it is ? ” 

“Just a few miles from here, isn’t 
it?” 

“ Why, this is Eioville ! ” she again 
exclaimed. 

“ What is? ” asked Mrs. Baldwin. 

“ This house.” 

“ And do you mean to say that there is 
only one family in the town ? ” asked Mr. 
Baldwin, in amazement. 

“ That’s all except a few Pai Ute 
Indians. I don’t see how you got the 
idea that Eioville was a real town.” 

“ Simply because we saw it on the 
map,” laughed Mrs. Baldwin. “Harry 
[ 102 ] 







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CAMP AT LAST 


boy,” she added, “ look hard at this town, 
for you will never again be in one as 
small.” 

How good Harry’s supper of cream of 
wheat with real cream on it, and a glass 
of real cow’s milk tasted! There must 
have been fairies about that day after 
all, for Mrs. Baldwin’s wish did come 
true. They slept in real beds, soft, fresh, 
and comfortable. 

The next morning early, Harry and his 
mother found many interesting things to 
see — great fields of vivid green alfalfa 
and licorice, fig trees with their broad 
shapely leaves and green fruit, but better 
still, pomegranate trees with the leaves, 
the scarlet blossoms, and the orange-red 
fruit all on them at once. Harry had 
always wanted to see a pomegranate, 
[ 103 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


because it was the fruit that was given 
Proserpina while she was King Pluto’s 
prisoner. You know the story, of course. 
Harry also found his fruit full of seeds 
which were covered with a sort of jelly ; 
he tasted it in a most gingerly fashion 
and didn’t like it at all. 

When he was having the most delight- 
ful time poking about in the garden, his 
father called that they must start ; and, 
before the sun was high, Harry was once 
more riding Jenny, this time along the 
bank of the river, which wound in and 
out around the mountains, sometimes 
dropping into a waterfall, but always 
hurrying on. 

Their trail was a strange one; in fact, 
in some places it didn’t look like a trail 
at all. Over big rocks it went, where 
[ 104 ] 


CAMP AT LAST 


the wagon crashed up and down until Mr. 
Baldwin was sure that an axle would 
break ; over the soft mud at the river’s 
edge it went, where it seemed as if the 
wagon would sink ; and on it passed 
under huge shelving cliffs that grazed 
the canvas top. Once the horses Jumped 
and swerved to the side of the road. 
Harry looked ahead and there he saw a 
large rattlesnake coiled and ready to 
strike. Quick as a flash he slid from 
Jenny’s back, and picking up a big stone 
threw it with all his might. The snake, 
untouched, glided off into a bunch of cacti, 
where he coiled once more and rattled 
fiercely until they were out of sight. 
This was the first snake that Harry had 
seen, and you may be sure he kept on the 
lookout for them after that. 

[ 105 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


The day wore slowly on ; it seemed as 
if each hill must be the last, but before 
them always rose another. Harry had 
almost given up the hope of ever getting 
to camp and was sinking into a little 
doze, when his mother jumped up sud- 
denly. 

“Look,” she cried, “there it is, our 
own camp. Do you see it, Harry ? ” 

“ What, that tiny bit of a wooden 
thing ? ” 

“ Yes, that’s surely it,” replied his 
father. “It is small and very likely 
full of sand, scorpions, and all sorts of 
things. But the worse it is, the more fun 
it will be for us to see what a bright, 
pleasant home we can make of it.” 

“ I can do a good deal, papa,” exclaimed 
Harry. “ I can sweep and dust and do 
[ 106 ] 



The Camp at Willow Bend. — Pas^e io 6 . 


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carpenter work. Shall we have to make 
our own chairs and tables ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed, boy, but the principal 
thing to make in this country is gold.” 

“ I’m going to do that, anyway,” an- 
swered Harry, confidently, “ for I’m going 
to find a mine.” 

“ Here we are,” said Mr. Baldwin, 
“ and here come the men to welcome 
us.” 

“ Just think,” shouted Harry, as he 
gave a flying leap from the wagon to the 
sand, “ we’ve come to the end of our four 
days’ journey.” 


[ 107 ] 


CHAPTER VII 


WILLOW BEND 

T he first niglit at Willow Bend 
was a most exciting one. Every- 
body set to work with brooms 
and cloths to make the tiny three-room 
cabin as habitable as possible ; the first 
place to sweep was the kitchen, where a 
fire was started in the little stove, and 
where the cook at once set to work un- 
packing provisions and getting supper. 
You can never guess who was cook. 
Not Harry, though he did learn later how 
to throw a flapjack in the pan as well as 
any miner, but Jim, the cowboy. I won’t 
tell you about the supper and how good 
[ 108 ] 


WILLOW BEND 


everything tasted, for fear it might make 
you hungry. Harry ate so much that he 
had to run about for at least an hour 
before going to bed. 

Very likely you think that he slept in 
the house, but you are wrong this time, 
for the bedroom of this strange dwelling 
was the front yard. There the three cots 
were set up, and there Harry with his 
father and mother went to bed at the 
same time. No one ever knows till he 
tries it, how wonderful it is to lie flat 
down and look up at the stars, especially 
in Nevada, where they are much brighter 
than here and where one can see thousands 
and thousands of them. Harry looked with 
wonder at the Milky Way spanning the 
heavens, and at the Big Dipper going down 
behind the mountains. He had dropped 
[ 109 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


off into a doze when he was awakened by 
a strange barking sound like the short, 
sharp yelping of a number of dogs, each 
trying to make more noise than the 
others; long, mournful howls followed, 
which sent Harry flying into his father’s 
bed with fright. The weird sounds echoed 
back and forth from mountain to moun- 
tain, till the air seemed filled with them. 

“ What is it ? ” whispered Harry. 

“ Only the coyotes, dear,” answered his 
father, reassuringly. 

“ Perhaps they are coming to get us.” 

“No, indeed, they are only singing to 
the moon.” But no amount of reasoning 
could induce Harry to go back to his own 
bed, and all night long he lay cuddled 
up to his father. 

Early the next morning before the sun 
[ 110 ] 



The Entrance to the Cellar. — Page iii. 


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had risen over the mesa, and while the 
sky was pink, the whole family got np 
and had breakfast, for they were still 
trying to get ahead of the heat. Harry 
ran in and out of the house, wild with 
delight over his new home and determined 
to see everything. On one of his ex- 
ploring expeditions he ran down some 
steps, through a door right into the 
middle of a sand-bank. It was so dark 
that he couldn’t see a thing, but some- 
where, not far away, he heard a faint 
squeaking sound. Back to the house he 
ran, calling, “ Come quick, papa. I’ve 
found a dark cave and there’s a funny 
noise in it.” 

“ Why, that’s our cellar, Harry,” said 
his father. “ I will light a match now 
and see what we can see.” 

[Ill] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


They peered into barrels and boxes till 
Harry shrieked, “ Look here ! A mother 
cat and three baby kittens ! ” 

The much-disturbed mother eyed Harry 
anxiously but made no objection when 
he picked up one fat baby for a better 
view of it. 

“ A tiger, a tiger ! ” he shouted, jump- 
ing up and down. “ And its eyes aren’t 
even open yet.” 

A little later Harry and his father went 
down a steep bank to a tent where their 
only neighbors, Mr. Cook and Mr. Dodge, 
lived. It is pleasant enough to have nice 
neighbors in the city, but on the desert 
it is very important ; you will be glad to 
know that Harry’s neighbors were the 
kindest and best that a little boy 
could have had. Mr. Cook at once be- 
[ 112 ] 



The Burro Arastra. — Page iij. 




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came his dearest friend, and from that 
time on never tired of doing nice things 
for him. The tent was filled with all 
sorts of curios that would have delighted 
any boy, — specimens of rock, strange 
tools, saddles, and best of all, guns. 
As the guns were always loaded, Harry 
was not allowed to touch them but had to 
be satisfied with longing looks. 

Below the tent was something even 
more interesting, — a burro arastra. 
You haven’t, I know, the least idea 
what that is, and neither had Harry 
until Mr. Cook told him all about it. 

In the first place there was a huge tub 
sunk partly in the ground ; in the centre 
of that was a post, and attached to the 
post a long wooden beam to which two 
burros were harnessed. Fastened, also, 
[ 113 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


to the beam by chains were a number of 
big rocks which, when the burros walked 
along, ground round and round in the 
tub. Harry couldn’t imagine what all 
the grinding was about until Mr. Cook 
told him that it was to crush the rock 
in which the gold was hiding. 

“ Oh, let me see some of the gold,” 
he exclaimed, and was much crestfallen 
when he found that it had to go through 
two or three more processes before any 
one could see it. 

The patient burros walked round the 
path they had made about the tub, until 
it seemed to Harry that they must be 
dizzy ; once in a while they would stop, 
and then Mr. Dodge would have to crack 
a whip at them or even have to walk 
around after them for a while. Harry 
[ 114 ] 


* >• 



Julia, Good Eye, and Monkey. — Page 113 . 









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WILLOW BEND 


had more fun than any one else that 
morning, for Mr. Cook set him up on the 
beam, where he rode along in state. He 
tried cracking the whip, too, but of course 
he wouldn’t have hit the kind old burros 
for anything. One was named Julia and 
one Good Eye. 

“ Good Eye is a queer name. Why 
was the burro called that, Mr. Cook ? ” 
asked Harry, from his perch on the 
beam. 

“ I don’t know as I can just tell you,” 
answered his friend, “ unless it’s because 
she has a bad eye. Don’t you notice 
that she’s blind in one eye ? Here come 
Pete and Monkey ; run along, Harry, 
and see if you can make friends with 
them.” 

Pete and Monkey were two sleek, pretty 
[ 115 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


little burros, the babies of Julia and Good 
Eye. When their mothers were going 
around the arastra, they would stand 
outside the fence and watch, or else 
chase each other about under the wil- 
lows near the river. Monkey liked 
Harry as soon as he saw him and let 
him rub his forehead or stroke his nose, 
but Pete kicked up his heels and was 
off in a twinkling. 

After the small boy had played about 
the arastra all the morning, his mother 
called him to the house for lunch, and 
then said that he must lie on his cot in 
the cool of the porch and rest. 

“Oh, mamma,” cried Harry, “please 
don’t make me. I must go down and 
see the burros.” 

“ Just run over, dear, and tell me what 
[ 116 ] 


WILLOW BEND 


the thermometer says,” answered Mrs. 
Baldwin. 

Harry trotted over to a shaded corner 
where the thermometer hung. “ It says 
a hundred and twelve degrees, mamma.” 

“In the East,” said his mother, “that 
would mean hundreds of people dying 
of sunstroke. Here, where there is no 
moisture in the air, you wouldn’t have a 
sunstroke no matter how long you stayed 
out in the sun, but you might be very ill, 
and there is no doctor to take care of you. 
Wouldn’t it be wiser to rest until four 
o’clock? Then we will go for a look 
at the mill. Don’t you hear it pound- 
ing? ” 

“ Well, I’ll lie down if you will read to 
me out of ‘ The Jungle Book.’ ” 

Their porch was a very queer one ; it 
[ 117 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


was most simply made with a row of up- 
right poles driven into the ground about 
six feet from the house ; from the points 
of the poles cross sticks extended to the 
roof, and upon these leafy branches of 
willow had been thrown to make a shade. 
Harry loved the porch because he could 
look up into the boughs and play that he 
was under the trees ; but even then the 
heat made him feel as if he couldn’t 
breathe. Every little while he jumped 
up and dipped some water from the olla, 
which swung back and forth in the hot 
wind. 

Mrs. Baldwin was reading about Mow- 
gli’s journey over the tree-tops with the 
monkeys, when Harry sat up suddenly, 
crying, “ Look, mamma ! Look at the 
cat ! ” There stood Bobby, the mother 
[ 118 ] 


WILLOW BEND 


cat, with a squirming lizard in her mouth. 
She chewed off his head, and while she 
was busy swallowing that, his body ran 
around on the ground at a lively rate, as 
if heads were quite unnecessary. Then 
she ate more and more of him till only 
the tip end of his tail was left ; even that 
wiggled about by itself. 

“Wasn’t it horrid?” gasped Harry, 
when the feast was over. “ Do you sup- 
pose it wiggles inside of her? ” 

“ Let’s try not to think of it,” answered 
his mother, with a shudder. 

The cat sat still, peacefully looking 
about, washed her face with care, stretched 
once or twice, and trotted off to the cellar 
and her kittens. 

Harry and his mother had been read- 
ing for another hour, when they heard 
[ 119 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


Jenny calling loudly in her mournful 
voice. 

“ She wants you, Harry,” said his 
mother. “ Kun and saddle her and you 
may ride over to the mill. Trot along 
while I get my hat.” 

In a few minutes they were on their 
way over a narrow trail that ran up and 
down through the sand. The pounding 
of the mill grew louder and louder until 
it became almost deafening, and in a few 
moments more they found themselves 
standing beside a big wooden building. 

The engineer was a pleasant man who 
gladly took them over the mill. Of 
course, he couldn’t tell them anything 
about it because of the terrific noise, but 
he pointed out to them the great stamps 
that came crashing down on the rock, 
[ 120 ] 


WILLOW BEND 


smashing it into tiny pieces. The mill, 
Harry was surprised to find, did the same 
work as Mr. Cook’s arastra, though in 
a very much quicker way. The little boy 
watched it for a long time, quite fascinated 
with the immense crushers and filled once 
more with a longing to find a gold mine 
of his own. 

“ Mamma,” he said, when they were 
on their way home, “ if I find a mine, do 
you think papa will let me run my ore 
through his mill? I haven’t money 
enough to build a mill myself unless the 
hundred dollars I have in the bank would 
do it.” 

“ That isn’t quite enough,” said his 
mother, smiling, “ but you could pay papa 
a certain amount of money for every ton 
of your ore that he runs through the mill. 

[ 121 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


However, if I were you, I wouldn’t worry 
about that until I found the mine.” 

“You needn’t laugh, mamma,” ex- 
claimed Harry, indignantly, “ for I’m go- 
ing prospecting just as soon as I can.” 


[ 122 ] 


CHAPTER VIII 

DAYS OF HEAT 

B reakfast in the flickering shade 
of the porch was, every morning, 
a new joy to Harry. 

“It’s such fun to see all around ; and 
besides, I don’t have to waste any time in 
the house,” said the little boy, as he laid 
a hot buttered biscuit on his plate and 
gazed off across the river at the massive 
mountains of rock. 

All of a sudden a great furry head was 
thrust over his shoulder, and the biscuit 
disappeared. Harry, in his surprise, gave 
such a jump that over he went, chair and 
[ 123 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


all ; there was a scurrying, and a brown 
something slipped around the corner of 
the house. 

“ It was that old Nubby,” cried Harry, 
picking himself up. “ He is the queerest 
burro I ever saw.” 

“He certainly is,” laughed Mr. Bald- 
win, “ and yesterday he did the funniest 
thing yet. Jim had been on night 
shift and, tired out, was asleep in the 
bunk house, from which loud snores 
issued regularly. Nubby and Jenny hap- 
pened to pass just then ; both stopped, 
listened a minute, and walked up to the 
door, which was latched. Jenny looked 
knowingly at Nubby, then deliberately 
pulled the latch with her teeth and 
opened the door; next she stepped to 
one side while Nubby walked up and, 
[ 124 ] 


DAYS OF HEAT 


putting his head into the house, brayed 
the most ear-splitting bray that any one 
ever heard. Jim jumped up, frightened 
almost to death, and sure that the end 
of the world had come. Jenny and 
Nubby, you may be sure, ran off as fast 
as they could, and I laughed till I cried.” 

“ It was pretty smart of Jenny to know 
that Nubby had the loudest voice, wasn’t 
it, papa ? ” 

“ It surely was. They acted like two 
mischievous boys.” 

“ Goodness ! ” exclaimed Harry, with a 
sudden thought, “ this is the day we are 
going to make mamma’s surprise.” 

“ Be careful or you will tell me what it 
is,” said his mother, smiling. 

“ No, I shan’t ; but promise you won’t 
try to find out.” 


[125] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ Yes, indeed ; I shall he busy in the 
cabin all the morning. Good-by and good 
luck to you ! ” 

The two conspirators, armed with axes, 
hatchets, rakes, and tools of all sorts, 
ploughed through the sand in front of the 
cabin and ran down the steep banks to 
the dense thicket of low trees that out- 
lined the river, where they selected a 
favorable spot and started to make a 
clearing. Mr. Baldwin hacked furiously 
at the tough and dangerous branches of 
mesquite, while Harry tugged at the 
yielding willow boughs. 

“ I s’pose the trees all grow here so 
as to be near the water,” said Harry, 
stopping to mop the rivers of perspira- 
tion from his face. 

“That’s it,” answered his father, “but 
[ 126 ] 


DAYS OF HEAT 


see how selfish and disagreeable some of 
them have become. The wicked mesquite 
has spread itself over as much space as 
possible, has tangled its branches to- 
gether to make a wall, and has stuck 
sharp thorns out on all sides to keep 
people or animals from coming near.” 

“ Isn’t it mean ? ” cried Harry. “ I’m 
glad we’re chopping it up.” 

“ So am I, son. Even plants have to 
pay for being cruel ; another plant called 
the mistletoe fastens itself upon the mes- 
quite and lives upon its sap. Gradually 
the mistletoe grows into a huge bunch, 
and the larger it grows, the more sap it 
sucks from the mesquite, until finally the 
cruel bush dries up and dies.” 

“The willows aren’t cruel, are they? ” 
“ Oh, no ! You see for yourself that 
[ 127 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


they haven’t any thorns. Some grow tall 
and fluffy like these, and others are low 
and bushy like those by the water’s edge, 
but not one of them ever sends out thorns 
or tries to be disagreeable. Instead, they 
make refreshing shade where the tired, 
thirsty animals can rest.” 

“ And we, too, papa. I don’t believe 
the mistletoe would touch these good 
trees, would it ? ” 

“ Not for the world. But we must 
hurry, or our surprise will never be fin- 
ished.” 

With new interest Harry chopped and 
pulled. At last a little clearing had been 
made, roofed with intertwined twigs of 
willow, shaded on three sides by the 
much-despised mesquite, and open on the 
fourth to the river, and to the cooling 
[ 128 ] 


DAYS OF HEAT 


southeast wind, which blew steadily over 
the water. 

“ Now for some furniture,” exclaimed 
Mr. Baldwin. 

As if by magic, an old piece of canvas 
was changed into a hammock and some 
boxes became a table and chairs. 

“Isn’t it all grand?” exulted Harry, 
almost beside himself with pride. “ Now 
I’m going to get mamma.” 

“ Mamma, mamma,” he panted as he 
tore breathless into the cabin, “ come this 
minute and see your surprise.” 

“What can it be?” she answered. 
“ I’m afraid you’re playing some joke on 
me.” 

“No, I’m not. Come down the little 
path, now, through this opening. There it 
is ! Isn’t it beautiful ? ” Harry danced 
[ 129 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


round and round her anxiously, watching 
her face for signs of approval. 

“A bower by the river ! How perfectly 
wonderful ! ” she marvelled. “ I believe it 
is just the kind of place that Adam and 
Eve lived in. What fine chairs ! Can 
this be a hammock ? Look, Harry, there 
seems to be some one in it.” 

They went over, and, peeping in, found 
the father sound asleep. 

Luncheon, that day, was served in the 
bower ; — a luncheon that you, very 
likely, wouldn’t have liked, as it con- 
sisted of shredded wheat biscuit, sar- 
dines, corn bread, and cold tea ; but 
Harry thought it fit for a king, as did 
also the two guests, Mr. Cook and his 
collie dog. Jack. The handsome, shaggy 
fellow did not sit at the table, but 
[ 180 ] 



The View from the Bower. — Page ijo 


4 





DAYS OF HEAT 


crouched behind his master, watching 
with expectant look every mouthful that 
was eaten, for he knew that his time 
wonld come. Soon the plates were given 
him to clean, and, that duty over, he 
hunted up a big stick, which he laid at 
his master’s feet. 

“ Do you know what he wants?” asked 
Mr. Cook. “He is asking me to throw 
the stick out in the river for him.” 

“ Surely no dog can swim in that cur- 
rent,” said Mr. Baldwin, with surprise. 

“Just you see if he can,” replied Jack’s 
master, proudly, as he walked to the 
water’s edge. Round his head several 
times he swung the stick, then with all 
his strength hurled it far out in mid- 
stream. With a bound Jack was after it, 
swimming as if for dear life. The racing 
[ 131 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


current carried the stick swiftly along, but 
Jack, still more swift, seized the prize in 
his mouth and turned for the homeward 
trip. Now came the test, not of strength 
alone, but of wisdom as well. Jack knew 
that he couldn’t swim against the current, 
so instead, he swam with it down the 
river, always fighting his way through 
the bubbling water nearer and nearer 
the shore, till with a lunge he landed far 
below and came crashing back through 
the underbrush. 

Harry, who had been in tears for fear 
Jack would be drowned, now jumped 
about wild with delight and almost 
laughed himself into hysterics, when the 
brave dog shook several quarts of water 
over him. 

“ Mr. Cook,” said Harry, a little later, 
[ 182 ] 


DAYS OF HEAT 


“ what boat is that under the trees, and 
why don’t you go out in it ? ” 

“ It’s my boat, boy, and we will go on 
the river in her in another month. If we 
should try it now, down we’d go to the 
Wallapai Eapids, and that would be the 
end of us.” 

“ I don’t see why we can go later any 
more than now.” 

“ Just because the river will go down 
and the current won’t go so fast. When 
the snow up in Colorado stops melting, 
there won’t be so much water to come our 
way.” 

“ Where does the Colorado come from, 
anyway? ” still questioned Harry. 

“ Well, boy,” spoke up his father, “ it 
rises a tiny brook away up in Wyoming, 
flows through Colorado, where the mountain 
[ 133 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


snows melt and run into it; tears on 
through Utah and Arizona, draining every 
bit of moisture from the land; cuts its 
way through the Grand Canyon, which it 
made long centuries ago ; and finally 
pours itself into the Gulf of California.” 

“ Goodness me ! ” exclaimed Harry. 
“ Doesn’t it do a lot ! ” and he gazed 
at the rushing torrent with great respect. 
“ I shall be pretty glad when we can go on 
it ; my, but I wish the cold would come ! ” 

“ You’re not the only one,” said Mr. 
Cook, with a sigh. 

But the weeks of intense heat con- 
tinued and Harry wasn’t even allowed to 
go as far as the mine, five miles away. 
His mother and he spent all their days in 
the bower by the river, where they read 
or played games. Sometimes the little 
[ 134 ] 





He Learned how to Pan the Gold . — Page 


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1 


DAYS OF HEAT 


boy waded back and forth in the cool, 
brown water or sat in the pink mud 
moulding figures which he set in the sun 
to dry ; sometimes he dug trenches, 
down which he poured can after can of 
water that went bubbling into the river ; 
sometimes, best of all, he learned from 
Mr. Cook how to “pan” the gold. He 
would stand knee-deep in the water, 
swashing around in the pan a mass of 
dark sand, which, washing gradually over 
the side, left at last a few specks of shin- 
ing gold. When his arms grew tired of 
holding the heavy pan, he would take a 
run over the cushion of soft, smooth mud, 
leaving behind him footprints, which 
quickly baked and told their tale until 
the mighty river rose again after many 
months and washed them away. 

[ 135 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


^ There, too, many animals had left the 
impress of their feet. Harry never tired 
of going each morning to see what 
creatures had watered during the night. 
He soon learned to know the footprints 
of the rat, the quail, the great heron, the 
chipmunk, the fox, the coyote, the wild 
burro, and even the mountain lion. Once, 
with Jack’s help, he traced a badger to 
his round hole in the sand-bank. Harry 
had never seen a badger and he made up 
his mind that now was the time. Jack 
evidently had the same idea, so both of 
them sat down before the hole and waited. 
Mr. Badger knew quite well what they 
were doing, and, curling himself up, went 
to sleep for the day. Hours passed, till 
at length a very hungry boy and a very 
dejected dog walked meekly back to camp, 
[ 136 ] 


DAYS OF HEAT 


though both were still determined to see 
that badger. 

Once, in the night, Harry was awakened 
by the furious barking of Jack. “ Come, 
papa,” he called, as he pounded his father 
to wake him, “ I believe Jack has caught 
the badger.” 

They slipped on their shoes and ran 
pell-mell to the scene of the commotion, 
where they found that the dog had indeed 
caught the poor little borrower, who was 
making a fierce fight for his life. There 
seemed to be a rolling mass of fur from 
which issued barks, yelps, and all sorts 
of painful noises. In the midst of the 
excitement Mr. Cook rushed up with his 
gun and was about to shoot at the badger 
when Harry shrieked, “ Don’t, don’t, let’s 
catch him ! ” 


[ 137 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“All right,” answered Mr. Cook, “I 
might hit Jack ; here’s a box, we’ll try to 
put it over the badger and haul Jack off 
at the same time.” 

The wild struggle that followed left the 
badger a wounded prisoner, and Jack a 
much sadder and wiser dog. 

“That’s going to be my badger,” an- 
nounced Harry, with decision. “ I’m going 
to get him well and have him for a pet. 
Will you help me build a cage for him, 
papa?” 

“ I will, gladly, if you will promise to 
take entire care of him yourself.” 

“ Of course I will ; you wait and see.” 

Harry kept his part of the bargain so 
well that the badger soon recovered from 
his wounds and learned to know his 
master. He was a queer-looking fellow, 
[ 138 ] 


DAYS OF HEAT 


about the size of a small pig, but covered 
with a thick coat of black and grayish 
fur, which parted in the middle and 
fluffed out on each side. Whenever he 
saw Jack, who always bore a grudge 
against him, his fur rose up on end till he 
looked like a huge muff, or perhaps more 
like a giant’s shaving-brush. Such long 
claws as he had on his front feet ! Those 
had been his tools for making his under- 
ground house. 

Harry’s other pets, the kittens, had by 
that time with their mother taken pos- 
session of the house and the porch, where 
they loved to scamper about in the shade. 
The boy took good care of them and fed 
Bobby three times a day with condensed 
milk. She was very fussy and would 
drink only one special brand, turning 
[ 139 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


away disgusted if any other was offered 
her. She was also particular in the 
bringing up of her children, and spent 
hours teaching them to catch lizards; it 
was funny to see her encouraging them 
with soft mews or cuffing them when they 
were stupid. 

Early one morning she seemed to be 
very busy about something, and Harry 
couldn’t make out what she was trying to 
do. First she gave each kitten a tap ; 
then talked to it awhile ; next she made 
them stand in a row and follow after her 
down the bank. They marched along 
like wee soldiers, their pencil tails stick- 
ing up for bayonets. At every few steps 
their mother looked back to see if they 
were keeping a straight line and to call a 
word of w^arning. On she went to the 
[ 140 ] 


DAYS OP HEAT 


shade by the river, where she lay down 
serenely and let her children play about 
her. 

“What do you s’pose she did that 
for?” asked Harry, who had watched 
the procession with interest. 

“I think,” answered his father, “that 
this will be the hottest day yet, and that 
Bobby knows it and means to keep her 
kittens in a cool place.” 

“ But how can she tell when the sun 
isn’t up yet ? ” 

“ Animals know more than we. Wait 
and see if I am not right.” 

Sure enough, the mercury ran up to 
one hundred and twenty degrees that 
day, and Harry agreed that Bobby was a 
wonderful mother. Once the bad boy 
took a kitten back to the house to see 
[ 141 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


what would happen, and he hadn’t long 
to wait. In five minutes Bobby had 
followed and was trying to carry down 
the fat baby in her mouth. Of course, 
Harry helped because it was all his 
fault. 

One inmate of the house said good-by 
to the cats with great joy, — that was 
Bill, the lizard, a tiny gray one, which 
had run about the cabin for weeks and 
become very intimate with Mrs. Baldwin 
and Harry, who had named him for the 
friend of Alice in Wonderland. Bill 
wasn’t at all afraid of them and would sit 
quite still even when they moved some- 
thing within two or three inches of him. 
His shiny pin-point eyes were always 
moving quickly from side to side, and 
woe to the unhappy fly upon which they 
[ 142 ] 


DAYS OF HEAT 


lighted ! In a flash he was nothing but 
a lump slipping down Bill’s throat. Fly 
after fly would disappear until the 
lizard’s sides bulged ; then away he 
would glide, out of the window to his 
home. Harry tried to see where he went, 
but the slippery creature vanished in a 
second. Once he stayed away for days 
and Harry feared that Bobby had caught 
him, but after a while he appeared again 
as bright and hungry as ever. Do you 
suppose he had been off for a vacation ? 

Harry made stories about all his 
strange pets, big and little, and learned 
to know their queer ways. So they 
helped him through the monotonous 
weeks of heat. But day after day he 
asked the same question, “ Will it ever 
end ? ” 


[143] 


CHAPTER IX 


THE FLAG 

A PITCHED battle had raged for 
hours. General Harry, mounted 
upon his war-horse, Jenny, rode 
at the head of his forces, encouraging his 
men and urging them on till, with one 
last charge, they scattered the foe and 
followed in hot pursuit. The make-be- 
lieve enemy fled over the hill, while the 
General, after attending to the dead and 
wounded, returned to camp and sank 
upon the ground, exhausted. 

When he had recovered strength enough 
to speak, he murmured, “ Mamma, I’ve 
[ 144 ] 


THE FLAG 


simply got to have two flags, — a battle- 
flag and a flag of truce.” 

“ The white flag can be made easily,” 
his mother replied. “ Even in real bat- 
tles a sheet or a towel has often been 
used. An old white cloth would do per- 
fectly well. But there is nothing here 
with which to make a battle-flag.” 

“Just think, mamma, think! If you 
will only find some pieces of red, white, 
and blue, I can do the work myself.” 

“Really, Harry, I haven’t red or blue 
scraps of any kind, and we surely can’t 
go a hundred miles across the desert to 
get some.” 

“ Well, I’m going up to the camp to 
look,” insisted the General, as he disap- 
peared. 

Smiling, Mrs. Baldwin returned to her 
[ 145 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


book. Half an hour had gone by, when a 
sudden shout startled her. 

“ See what I’ve found ! See what I’ve 
found ! ” came in a shrill voice from the 
direction of the cabin. 

Mrs. Baldwin hurried in, and, to her 
amazement, found Harry sitting in the 
midst of the heaped-up belongings of 
the entire family, and waving over his 
head a small bundle of red. 

“ Why, Harry dear,” she exclaimed, 
“ those are only a few small pieces for 
mending your coat lining.” 

“ I don’t care. I’ll sew ’em together ; 
they’ll make fine stripes and I’m going 
to begin now. Here’s some white cloth 
to put them on.” 

Several hours of perspiring agony fol- 
lowed. The thread knotted, the needle 
[ 146 ] 


THE FLAG 


broke, and the stitf little fingers received 
many a prick, but in spite of it all Harry 
was ready at lunch time to show his father 
seven red and six white stripes. 

“ Have you some blue for the corner ? ” 
asked Mr. Baldwin. 

Harry’s face fell. “ There isn’t a blue 
thing in camp, except mamma’s skirt.” 

There was a pause full of meaning, 
then Mrs. Baldwin said thoughtfully, “ I 
suppose I could make my skirt a little 
shorter.” 

“Good for you! ” shouted Harry, throw- 
ing his arms around his mother’s neck. 
“ You’ll be glad when you see the 
flag.” 

The boy worked patiently for a time, 
piecing together three strips of blue, 
which he sewed to the corner of his flag ; 

[ 147 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


but, tired at last, he ran out, quite for- 
getting the forty-six stars. 

“ Harry,” called his mother, “ you’re 
what the Goop Book calls ‘ a good begin- 
ner’ ; come back and finish your work, I 
want it done surely to-day.” 

“ I don’t see why you care when it’s 
done, mamma.” 

“ Never mind, little curiosity, wait and 
see.” 

Inspired with the hope of a surprise, 
Harry patiently cut, by a paper pattern, 
the many white stars, which he finally 
pasted upon his blue square. That 
done, he tacked his masterpiece to a 
smooth round stick, one of his greatest 
treasures. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he cried, as he 
ran about waving the flag over his head. 

[ 148 ] 


THE P^LAG 


“ I don’t believe that any one would notice 
that it has one plain white side. Now 
I’m going to show it to everybody in 
camp.” 

“It’s time to get up,” called Mrs. Bald- 
win. 

“ Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! ” yawned Harry. “ I 
feel so tired.” 

Then with a sudden thought he hopped 
out of bed, exclaiming, “ What’s the sur- 
prise ? You said you’d tell me this 
morning.” 

“ Do you know what day it is, Harry ? ” 

“ Just the same as all the other days,” 
he answered disgustedly. 

“No, it isn’t ; it is the Fourth of 
July ! ” 

“ Well, I don’t care if it is ; it won’t be 
[ 149 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


any fun in this old desert,” grumbled 
Harry. “There’s nothing to have any 
fun with.” 

“ How about your flag ? ” 

“ That’s so,” admitted Harry. “ Where 
is it, anyway? ” 

“ Dress quickly, dear, and run out- 
side.” 

Harry soon donned his few articles of 
clothing, and after giving his face and 
hands what Mr. Cook called “ a lick and a 
promise,” he rushed out in front of the 
house, where he found his father putting 
the last touches to a flagpole, from the 
top of which floated the new banner, 
wonderfully rigged with ropes and pul- 
leys. 

“ Thanks, thanks, papa ! ” he shouted. 
“Now any prospectors or people that 
[ 150 ] 


THE FLAG 


come this way will know that we’re citi- 
zens of the United States. But what’s 
all this?” he added, as he ran to a big 
box at the foot of the flagpole. “ Fire- 
crackers! ” he shrieked, “ the real thing! 
Punk and torpedoes, too! Where did 
they come from?” 

“ I sent for them, son, the last time the 
men went in. The desert isn’t such a 
bad place, after all, is it?” 

The morning slipped by in a blaze of 
noise and smoke, and, luncheon over, 
Harry started to blow up a long row of 
tin cans. Just as the first can flew 
into the air, he thought that he heard a 
faint shout, — in a moment it was re- 
peated louder. Where could it have 
come from? Harry looked in every di- 
rection and at last spied, on the opposite 
[ 151 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


bank of the river, a boy on a burro, sur- 
rounded by a flock of sheep. 

“ Hi ! Hi ! ” came the call once more. 
“ What you shootin’ ? ” 

“ A boy ! ” fairly yelled Harry. 
“ Mamma ! Papa ! come quick ; there’s 
a real live boy ! ” 

His father, mother, Mr. Cook, and Jim 
ran from various directions, sure that 
Harry had blown himself to bits. They 
were quite as excited as he when they 
found out the cause of the disturbance, 
and saw, for the first time since they had 
been there, a human being across the 
river. 

“By gum! That’s sure Tommie Jones,” 
cried Mr. Cook. “ His father’s the queer 
chap what has a ranch below. Hello, 
Tom ! Wait and we’ll come over. The 
[ 152 ] 



Tommie Jones. — Page igs. 



THE FLAG 


river’s dropped,” he added, turning to Mr. 
Baldwin, “ and we can row across, if you 
say so.” 

“ Please take me,” begged Harry. 
“ I’ll be as still as a mouse.” 

“Sure, boy, — come on,” said his friend. 

All the tales that Harry had heard of 
the violent, savage river, and his own 
memory of the drowning pony, came 
back to him and kept him perfectly still 
in the bow of the frail boat, which his 
father and Mr. Cook pulled with difiS- 
culty through the whirling current. He 
sighed with relief as he sprang to the 
shore and ran on to meet his new friend, 
— another boy. 

“Are you Tommie?” asked Harry, 
eagerly. 

“Me’s Johnnie; Tommie’s yonder,” 
[ 153 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


answered the very small urchin, looking 
everywhere but at Harry and thumping 
with bare feet the sides of his burro. 

“ Well, sir,” said Mr. Cook, coming up, 
“ how goes it, and what are you trying to 
do?” 

Johnnie sat immovable, dumb with 
embarrassment. “Tommie’s cornin’,” he 
finally burst forth with an agonized look 
at the brow of the sand hill, over which a 
larger boy was climbing. 

“ Hello, Tom ! ” called Mr. Cook, 
cheerily. “ Johnnie thinks we’re goin’ to 
eat him. Your mother and the kids 
well?” 

“Yep,” answered the big boy, as he 
shambled up. “ Ma and the old man 
have been gone up to the mine for a 
while. They just come back.” 

[ 164 ] 



Johnnie Jones. — Page 1 ^ 4 . 


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THE FLAG 


“ Did you take care of the children 
and do the cookin’ as usual ? ” inquired 
Mr. Cook, further. 

“We got on pretty good, only one day 
when the baby took sick, but she’s all 
right now,” replied the fifteen-year-old 
boy, who showed by his thin, drawn face 
and the anxious look in his brown eyes 
that the duties of farmer, shepherd, cook, 
and nurse were beginning to tell. 

“Tom,” said Mr. Baldwin, presently, 
“how would you like to go over, you and 
the rest of the children, to spend the 
night with us ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, do come ! ” piped up Harry. 

“ The rest can, if ma says so, but I’ve 
got to milk and do the chores.” 

“ I tell you what we’ll do,” suggested 
Harry, “we’ll help you drive home the 
[ 155 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


sheep and then we can ask your mother 
to let you go, can’t we, papa ? ” 

Mr. Baldwin assented and the two men 
with the three children started in pur- 
suit of the gaunt sheep, which stopped 
now and then for a mouthful of some 
unsavory desert herb, or hurried on, leav- 
ing tufts of wool hanging from the mes- 
quite thorns. 

On and on they went over a mile and 
a half of sand to the bars of a rude fence 
that served as a dividing line between 
the desert and a wonderful, green oasis. 

“Green fields!” exclaimed Harry, 
almost overcome with astonishment. 
“ And great, big trees ! How did they 
get here?” 

“ Years and years ago,” answered Mr. 
Cook, “ the Indians found a spring up 
[ 156 ] 


THE FLAG 


in the hills, so they ran the water down 
here and irrigated. Those cottonwoods 
are dandies, ain’t they? It’s good for 
us old desert rats just to hear the wind 
in the leaves.” 

By this time a man had come toward 
them — a dark, flerce-looking fellow, wear- 
ing a pointed Mexican hat. He tried to 
be friendly, but only succeeded in saying, 
“ How de ye do ? ” in a gruff, disagreeable 
voice. 

Harry shrank behind his father. 

“ Drive in the sheep, Tom, and 
count ’em,” called Mr. Jones, sharply. 

“ One, two, three,” and on up to fifty, 
counted Tom, while his father watched 
with a keen look. 

“Why, there’s only — ” began Harry, 
silenced suddenly by his father’s hand on 
[ 167 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


his mouth. “Don’t interfere, Harry,” 
said Mr. Baldwin. 

A few minutes later Tom came up and 
said quietly, “ I’m glad you stopped him, 
sir. Father can’t count, so I always say 
fifty ; he’d half kill me if he found out 
I’d lost two. Come up to the house and 
we’ll find ma.” 

In the half tumbled-down house a 
great deal of persuading was done by 
Mr. Baldwin and Harry, followed by a 
thorough scrubbing of the four children 
in preparation for the most wonderful 
event in their lives. 

“This is the first time they ever saw 
a child besides themselves and they don’t 
know what to make of it,” remarked 
Mrs. Jones, as she raked Johnnie’s drip- 
ping hair with an almost toothless comb. 

[ 158 ] 



The Little Joneses. — Page ij 8 . 






THE FLAG 


With many injunctions as to good 
behavior, the tribe started for camp, 
at first bashfully quiet; in a few min- 
utes wildly excited, running, jumping, and 
chattering, as if they had known one 
another always. In that way the long 
walk and the row across the river were 
soon accomplished. 

“ Mamma, this is Tommie, and Johnnie, 
and Susan, and Jane,” Harry said, as he 
introduced the children. “ They’ve come 
to stay to dinner and spend the night.” 

“That is splendid,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Baldwin. “ Have the best time you 
know how.” 

“Let’s give all the torpedoes to Susan 
and Jane, and divide the firecrackers 
evenly between the boys,” proposed 
Harry. “Papa, you must help.” 

[ 159 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


A great lighting and blowing of punk 
followed the division of the spoils, and 
then, — pandemonium let loose. At the 
explosion of her first torpedo, tiny Jane 
ran to Mr. Baldwin with the tears 
streaming down her face, but she was 
soon comforted and throwing the rest, 
with his help. Susan, determined to do 
something original, threw hers at a rock 
that stuck out of the water some four 
feet from the shore. Her aim was so 
true that only one torpedo fell into the 
river, to the surprise of the boys, who 
stopped to gaze with interest at the great 
“ stunt,” as Harry called it. As for the 
boys themselves, how can I ever tell you 
all they did ? Firecrackers were ex- 
ploded in every known way ; they 
popped on the sand and in the air ; they 
[ 160 ] 


THE FLAG 


made a dull punk in the water or fizzed 
as fusees; they thundered under barrels 
and crackled in tin cans. Oh, it was a 
grand time! 

“That is almost the end of the fire- 
crackers for a whole year, isn’t it?” 
rejoiced Mrs. Baldwin, coming down 
from the cabin. “We are to have a 
picnic supper in the bower, and as Jim 
will be here in a minute with the things, 
you must all hurry and wash your 
hands.” 

Presently the children were seated in 
a circle, bolting their food silently, after 
the manner of the country. Harry, 
never a hearty eater, watched the pro- 
ceeding with interest and was only re- 
strained by his mother’s timely glance 
from asking how his guests could put 
[ 161 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


their knives in and out of their mouths 
so rapidly without cutting themselves. 
Fried ham, baking-poAvder biscuits by 
the dozens, griddle-cakes, and I don’t 
know what all, went the same way, 
quickly and quietly. At last the chil- 
dren sat back, smiling and replete. 

“ Mamma, please tell us a story,” 
begged Harry. “ Don’t you like stories, 
Tommie?” 

“Don’t know as I ever heard one,” 
Tom answered, “but I guess I’d like 
’em.” 

“ Well, Harry,” said his mother, 
“what story do you think Tom would 
enjoy most? Remember that this will 
be his first.” 

“ Something about animals,” sug- 
gested Mr. Baldwin. 

[ 162 ] 


THE FLAG 


“I know,” shouted Harry, — “Puss 
in Boots.” 

“Once upon a time,” — began Mrs. 
Baldwin, telling in simple words the 
story of the wonderful cat. When she 
saw a puzzled look, she stopped to ex- 
plain what a king, a palace, or a coach 
might be. Her hearers listened with rapt 
attention, giving a deep sigh of satisfac- 
tion when the happy end was reached. 

“ Gosh ! I wish I had a cat like that,” 
commented Tom. “If I had all that 
money, I’d go off from here and see 
things.” 

Harry, meantime, had been fairly 
bursting with a grand idea. “It’s 
nearly sunset,” he cried, as soon as he 
had the chance. “We must lower the 
flag!” 


[163] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ That’s so,” replied his father, “ let’s 
march up in a procession; single file, 
that’s right. Now, ‘ Three colors we 
have in our banner,’ ” he sang. 

On he led them to the fiagpole, where 
he formed them into a circle. 

The Joneses grabbed obediently at 
their hats, not in the least knowing why, 
and looked in bewilderment at Mr. 
Baldwin. 

Harry stood by the flagpole ; his 
hands clutched the ropes and his 'eyes 
followed the sun, slowly sinking behind 
the mountains. As the last point of 
light vanished, he jerked the rope, and 
down came fluttering the little flag. Mr. 
Baldwin then started in his deep voice 
the “ Star-Spangled Banner,” and, join- 
ing in unexpectedly, came a full chorus 
[ 164 ] 


THE FLAG 


from the men who had drifted up to see 
what was going on. 

Not even on one of Uncle Sam’s war- 
ships was there a more impressive cere- 
mony that Fourth of July night. 

A great chattering and laughing fol- 
lowed, as each tried to pretend that there 
hadn’t been a lump in his throat. Only 
Tom stood alone, quietly thinking. 

“What is it, Tommie?” asked Mr. 
Baldwin, noticing the boy. 

“ I wish’t you’d tell me, sir, what all 
that was about.” 

“ It was what is done in all forts and 
on all our ships at sunset, — the lowering 
of the flag, to show our respect for it and 
our love for our country.” 

“ I don’t guess I know what a flag is, 
sir.” 


[ 166 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ A flag! ” gasped Harry, who had run 
up. “ Why, the Stars and Stripes, of 
course, that show we belong to the 
United States.” 

“ Is the United States what yon called 
our country ? ” 

“ Good gracious, boy ! Don’t yon 
know where yon live ? ” asked Mr. 
Baldwin, dumfounded. 

“ Mother and dad came from the old 
country. I’ve heard them tell, bnt we’ve 
just lived here by the river.” 

“Tom,” said Harry, impressively and 
with a determined air, as he detached his 
flag from the ropes, “ I’m going to give 
you this flag if you’ll put it up on a pole 
like this and run it up and down every 
day. Will you promise faithfully that 
you will do it?” 


[ 166 ] 


THE FLAG 


“ You bet I will ! ” exclaimed Tom. 
“But I can’t sing songs.” 

“You needn’t,” put in Mr. Baldwin. 
“ Simply take off your bat and say, ‘ I live 
in the United States and I respect the 
Stars and Stripes.’ ” 

Tommie took the little flag and crept 
off into a corner, where he sat for a long 
time, thoughtfully fondling and stroking 
his treasure. At last he folded it ten- 
derly and putting it in his shirt, joined the 
expectant men and children who were 
preparing for fireworks ; yes, roman 
candles, sky-rockets, pin-wheels, and the 
rest. 

You may have seen fireworks that were 
fine, but you never saw anything half as 
brilliant as the great rockets that shot 
far up into the crystal starry heavens of 
[ 167 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


Nevada, skimmed across the Colorado, 
and showered Arizona with a mass of 
falling stars. The children were wild 
with excitement. They oh-ed as each 
rocket popped, and shrieked as the pin- 
wheels fizzed around. Perhaps, best of 
all, they enjoyed the ecstatic thrill of 
danger which came over them when they 
whirled the roman candles about their 
heads. 

With the final explosion of a huge 
bomb, the display was at an end and 
the great day was over. The dazed 
and tired children quieted down gradu- 
ally and slipped into the improvised 
beds. 

Silence reigned in camp, broken only by 
the rushing of the river and the distant 
howling of the coyotes. 

[ 168 ] 


THE FLAG 


Harry raised his head from the pillow 
and looked about; next he crept softly 
from his cot and climbed in with his 
father. 

- “ What is it, Harry? ” 

“ I can’t sleep,” he whispered, “ ’cause 
I’m feeling so badly about my flag. We 
won’t have one in camp and there won’t 
be any more fun playing soldiers. I 
can’t have truces all the time ! But I 
s’pose it was best to give it to those 
children that never saw a flag before. 
Tom liked it, I know, ’cause he put it 
under his pillow.” 

“You were a generous boy, Harry, to 
give it to him and you have taught him 
more than you know; he isn’t any longer 
a boy without a country. The little flag 
will make him think and make him want 
[ 169 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


to go into the world, where I hope he will 
learn to be a useful man. I am sure that 
we can make another flag, even if mamma 
has to cut off her skirt again. Good 
night, dear.” 




[ 170 ] 


CHAPTER X 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT” 

“ H 'PLEASE, papa, tell me a story ; 

don’t you see what a nice way 
it would be to keep me quiet? 
You know you don’t want me running 
about in the sun.” 

Harry, without waiting for a reply, took 
a flying leap into the canvas hammock 
where his father had settled himself for a 
little rest. There was a frightful lurch 
and a perilous moment when it seemed 
as if there must be an upset, but happily 
the ropes were strong. 

“ Goodness, Harry ! ” gasped Mr. Bald- 
[ 171 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


win, “ we had a narrow escape that time. 
What do you think I am made of ? ” 
“Well, you’re all right now anyway — 
go ahead with the story.” 

“ Once upon a time there lived on the 
shore of a great river, a little boy — ” 

“ Oh, papa ! don’t begin with ‘ once 
upon a time,’ and please, please don’t tell 
a story about me.” 

“ Upon my word, Harry, you are fussy 
and so conceited, too ! I haven’t the least 
idea of making a hero of you. But I 
will change my beginning, if you like ; it 
will be good practice for me.” 

“ I don’t mean to be fussy,” put in 
Harry, quickly, “but every one begins 
with ‘ once upon a time ’ and I’m so 
tired of it. Can’t this be a story about 
an animal ? ” 


[ 172 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


“ Just wait and see, settle yourself 
comfortably, and please move your elbow 
so that it won’t bore a hole in my ribs. 
There — now we’re off.” 

Kit, the swiftest of foxes, slipped, a 
streak of yellow brown, over the coarse 
sand and under the branching cholla. 
The first, faint pink of dawn tinted the 
sky above the mesa, as he dived into his 
smooth, round hole and slid down to a 
neatly made chamber where his little 
wife lay cuddled with the babies. 

“ My dear,” he whined, “ do come and 
take a thorn out of my foot. I never 
saw anything like the cactus in this 
country ; everywhere I look there is a 
new kind.” 

“You ought to be more careful,” an- 
[ 173 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


swered Mrs. Kit, while examining his 
furry pad for the barbed point. “ Here 
it is,” she added ; “ after this, do try to 
look where you are going. What is the 
news, and why didn’t you bring home 
more than one quail ? ” 

“ I’m worried to death,” Kit replied ; 
“we’ve come south all this distance to 
get away from people and traps — you 
know as well as I how we hunted for a 
deserted country ; that wasn’t so hard to 
find, but to discover a deserted country in 
which there was plenty of water, — ah ! 
there was the trouble. At last we 
found it, a land where the white man 
had never been and through which 
there flowed a mighty river. I needn’t 
remind you how hard we worked to get 
our burrow ready for the cubs. And 
[ 174 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


now, what do you think? I dread to 
tell you.” 

“ Please do, quickly, and have it over,” 
said his wife, giving a pat to one of the 
children, who dreamed of a fight with his 
sister. 

“Well,” her mate went on, “I began 
the night’s hunt on the upper mesa, where 
I followed the fresh quail tracks until I 
was nearly upon the little topknots 
themselves as they watered at the spring 
in the granite ledge. In one bound I 
could have had two or three, at least, 
when who should come crashing down 
but coyote ! ” 

“ Not the wicked murderer of our little 
son, our Bushy Tail ? ” whispered Mrs. 
Kit, trembling from head to foot. 

“Yes, the very same, and looking more 
[ 175 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


cruel than ever. You can imagine what 
happened to the quail, — he got one, I 
got another, while the rest ran off laugh- 
ing. A clumsy hunter he ! After spoil- 
ing several hours’ work for me he sat 
down to spend the rest of the night in 
talk. He’s always talking or howling. 
There’s really no peace where he is.” 

“ ‘ Have you heard the news ? ’ he 
asked. 

“ ‘ I’m too busy to go gossiping about,’ 
I said firmly, ‘ and you know only too well 
how I hate you and why ; there can be 
nothing but war between us.’ 

“ ‘ Well, even if you are so grand, you 
may be interested to know that a family 
has camped by the river.’ 

“ ‘ What ! ’ I cried, interested in spite 
of myself, ‘ Man ? ’ 

[ 176 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


“ ‘ Just that,’ he answered. ‘ It means 
two things, one good and one bad — 
chickens and traps.’ 

“ ‘ Look here, coyote,’ I exclaimed, 
‘ have some sense ; you let the chickens 
alone and there won’t be any traps. 
Hunt like a wolf and a gentleman.’ 

“ At that he jumped about like an 
idiot, bai'king and howling just to show 
that he didn’t care in the least what I 
said. 

“ As he went capering out of sight, he 
called back — ‘ As long as there are 
chickens, I mean to have them ; so there, 
old fuzzy paws.’ By that time it was 
almost dawn ; I hurried home, tired out 
as yo« see, and with only one small quail 
for a whole family.” 

“You poor thing!” said Mrs. Kit. 

[ 177 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ Watch the cubs a minute while I go 
out to look for signs of the camp.” 

She crept quickly to the light and, with 
sharp little nose a-quiver and pointed 
ears erect, she peered about in all direc- 
tions. Presently she saw, rising straight 
up from the willows by the river’s edge, 
a slender column of smoke. 

“ Too true,” she groaned. “ Man, man! 
Is there no place secure from you ? ” With 
a deep sigh she turned, crawled into the 
hole, and lay wearily down for her day’s 
sleep. 

Two nights later Kit’s curiosity got 
the better of him ; he ran over the sand 
heaps and down through the greasewood 
bushes to the willows, where, moving 
cautiously, he approached the camp and 
crouched behind a barrel cactus to rec- 
[ 178 ] 


/ 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT” 

onnoitre. There before him stood a big 
white tent surrounded by a rude fence. 
In the corral near by, some burros strolled 
about, whispering to each other, while in 
one corner a few chickens roosted in a 
small shed. In front of the tent were 
some strange-looking objects ; what could 
they be ? Noiselessly Kit slid nearer and 
stopped in amazement, for on three queer 
beds lay three people sound asleep. He 
knew they were asleep, for they made a 
peculiar buzzing noise that he had heard 
in the days of his youth when he had 
lived on the outskirts of a village. 

A faint sound made Kit turn like a 
flash ; coyote was looking, too — looking 
and smiling wickedly, so that his cruel 
teeth gleamed. “Watch me,” he breathed 
with an evil leer. Stealthily he crawled 
[ 179 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


past the corral. The startled burros saw 
him and ran in a panic to the opposite 
side. On he crept to the chicken house ; 
a wild squawk followed, and then silence. 
One of the sleepers leaped up, seized his 
gun, and started in pursuit. 

Later, as Kit told his wife the tale, he 
shook his head slowly, “ The beginning 
of the end,” he concluded. “ The cubs 
will soon be hunting for themselves ; how 
can we ever teach them trap lore ? ” 

“ Goodness knows,” replied Mrs. Kit. 
“ Black Spot is alarmingly venturesome, 
and I feel sure that he will get into 
trouble. All we can do is to give the cubs 
lessons.” 

“ I believe they are old enough to be- 
gin this very night,” said Kit. 

The four furry balls of cubs meant to 
[ 180 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


pay attention when their parents talked 
to them, but it was such fun to pat and 
poke each other or to roll on the sand, 
that they learned very little. 

One evening as the moon rose. Black 
Spot calmly announced that he was going 
hunting alone. 

“ Oh, Kit, don’t let him ! ” the mother 
said. “ He’s too young yet, he hasn’t lis- 
tened to what we have told him, and he 
wouldn’t know a trap if he should see 
one. My dear, he doesn’t even know the 
scent of man ! ” 

“Anyway, I’m going. Good-by, all,” 
and with a whisk of his tail Black Spot 
vanished. 

Hours later he crawled home, the most 
excited fox in Arizona. “ Mother, mother, 
I’ve had a great time,” he cried, “ and I’ve 
[ 181 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


found a new animal, a white, — straight 
creature that walks on its hind legs, and 
that, instead of fur, wears a white thing 
hanging down all round it.” 

“ What did it do ? ” asked his mother, 
all of a tremble. 

“ It sat down under a tree and played 
with some stones. I didn’t speak to it, 
but to-night I mean to.” 

“ My son, my son, be careful ! It may 
be some deadly beast lying in wait for 
you.” 

That night Black Spot went straight 
down to the river. He little knew that his 
father had followed at a safe distance and 
had hidden in a sheltered spot from which 
he could see all that went on. Black Spot 
crept to the edge of a little clearing under 
a tall willow and stood looking eagerly in 
[ 182 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


all directions. The moon bathed every- 
thing in its silvery light ; objects stood 
out clearly, and the shadows were deep 
and black. 

Soon from one of the beds by the tent 
some one slipped, crawled upon hands 
and knees for a short distance, then with 
a light, swift leap flashed into the clear- 
ing and dropped gratefully beneath the 
willow. 

“ A boy, as I live ! ” exclaimed Kit, to 
himself. “ But I never before saw one 
that wandered about in the middle of the 
night and seemed to like it. Anyway he 
hasn’t a gun, one thing to be thankful for.” 

In a minute the boy whistled softly a 
little tune. 

Out of the shadows crept Black Spot, 
nearer and nearer, till he stood in the 
[ 183 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


light. The boy looked up, started, and 
dropped the little stones with which he 
was playing ; one motion he made to go, 
then sat quite still, looking steadily at 
Black Spot. 

Soon he whistled his tune again and 
held out his hand. The tiny fox took 
one step toward him, then another; the 
boy sat motionless, always whistling. 
Straight on, as if bewitched. Black 
Spot moved until the slender, out- 
stretched hand was buried in the soft 
fur of his neck. Ah, then what rubbing, 
what patting, and what smoothing ! 
Black Spot, lost in ecstasy, sank at last 
at the feet of his new friend. 

“You’re a dear little fellow,” the boy 
said softly. “ I knew I’d see some ani- 
mals if I got up in the night. My ! but 
[ 184 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


it was hard waiting for the men to go to 
sleep.” 

Kit watched until the boy gave Black 
Spot one last pat and ran back to his bed. 

“ Of all the extraordinary cubs I have 
ever seen, our son is the most so,” panted 
Kit, as he entered the burrow. “ He 
has actually made friends with a boy. 
Fancy ! ” 

“ Great cactus and cat-claw ! ” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Kit. “I never heard of 
such a thing. Watch w^ell that no harm 
comes to him.” 

The result was that Kit spent so much 
of his time keeping guard over his way- 
ward son that the family would have 
suffered for food had not the three little 
daughters turned out to be diligent and 
successful hunters. 

[ 185 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


Night after night the boy and the fox 
played together in the soft mud by the 
river; ran races, or dug holes, just for 
the joy of digging. Black Spot always 
won, whatever the contest; he seemed 
to fly over the ground, and his nimble 
fore feet could dig a hole in a second. 

Several times they saw coyote, and 
the boy learned to hate the murderer and 
night thief as much as the foxes did. 
Chicken after chicken disappeared from 
the roost. At last one night the boy met 
Black Spot with the fearful news that a 
steel trap had been set in the underbrush. 

“Be careful, little one,” he said, “come 
’way round after this. I believe I’d go 
crazy if you should be caught. I hate 
traps anyway; but I shouldn’t hate to 
have the coyote caught, he is bad and 
[ 186 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


wicked ; he is mean to all other ani- 
mals, and he eats dead things. Let 
him look out now ! My father means 
to have him, and my father is a very 
wise man.” 

Kit also knew about the trap and he 
kept more careful w^atch than ever. 
Mrs. Kit was in a dreadful state of 
nerves. 

“ You don’t suppose that boy will 
catch Black Spot for his skin, do you ? ” 
she said, one morning. 

“ You’re a goose,” her husband re- 
plied impatiently, “ you know very well 
that we’re not fashionable for furs. 
Thank goodness, we weren’t born silver 
gray ! ” 

“ But,” insisted Mrs. Kit, “ there’s no 
knowing when the style will change ; 

[ 187 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


perhaps it has changed even now and we 
haven’t heard of it. Nothing conld be 
prettier than Black Spot. Just think of 
his thick, soft coat and his fluffy tail 
with the black tip ! ” 

“ The boy is all right, I’m sure,” 
answered Kit. “ The trap was set for 
coyote and I hope it will catch him, the 
mean, sneaking — ” 

“ There, there, don’t call names,” put 
in Mrs. Fox, hastily. “ The cubs are 
coming and I wouldn’t have them hear 
you for the world.” 

Another trap was set and in the very 
trail that Black Spot had made. 

“Now we shall catch the old thief,” 
said the boy’s father; “he will be in such 
a hurry to get another chicken that he 
won’t see the trap at all.” 

[ 188 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


“ But, father,” implored the boy, 
“ please put the trap somewhere else ; 
that isn’t coyote’s track.” 

“ What do you know about tracks, 
anyway, and what if some other animal 
should be caught ? Its fur might be 
good for something.” 

The boy trembled and stood silent. 

The day seemed to him endless, 
though the sun sank behind the jagged 
mountains at four o’clock. Would bed- 
time never come ! Would the men never 
sleep! The little fellow lay with his 
eyes tight shut and tried to breathe 
regularly, but every thump of his heart 
shook him from head to foot. Perhaps 
at that very moment Black Spot was 
nearing the trap, — ‘ something must be 
done ! He laid the bedclothes aside 
[ 189 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


without a rustle, so expert had he be- 
come, but with his next move the cot 
creaked. 

“What’s the matter?” came quickly 
from his father. 

Then there was another half-hour of 
waiting; finally inch by inch the boy 
rolled from his bed and glided swiftly out 
into the open. A few bounds and he 
had reached the trail ; there lay the 
trap — untouched. 

Shuddering from the long strain, the 
boy sank down in the shadow and 
watched for Black Spot. 

Kit crept under a bush not twenty 
feet away and the boy never knew it. 
A dozen times they started, fancying 
that they heard a stealthy tread, but 
no one came, and time went by. 

[ 190 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


At last a faint crackle made them both 
jump ; quick as thinking, they looked 
anxiously up the trail, — there full in 
the moonlight crept coyote, careless of 
all things, overconfident, and bent upon 
a night of plunder. 

“ I will save him,” was the boy’s first 
impulse ; then like a flash came the 
thought of loyalty to his father. That 
would be nothing more than treason. 

On pranced coyote. Would he look, 
would he see ? No, he only sniffed the 
breeze and laughed as he thought of the 
fat chicken he would have for supper. 
Nearer and nearer he came — suddenly 
from nowhere it seemed, there leaped 
a small creature ; could it be Black Spot? 
Yes, Black Spot, indeed ! 

Coyote also saw him. “ Ah ! ” growled 
[ 191 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


he, “a better meal than chicken for me 
to-night,” and with a long spring he was 
almost upon the little fox, who was mak- 
ing straight for the fatal trap. 

Kit and the boy had already darted 
to the rescue, but too late; there was 
a horrible click and a mass of rolling, 
tumbling fur. 

The boy, bitterly conscious of his 
failure, buried his face in his hands and 
sobbed. 

The terrible, agonized howling ! Poor, 
poor little Black Spot ! The boy felt 
that he must rouse himself and help. 
With a tremendous effort he pulled him- 
self together and looked. He rubbed his 
eyes and looked again, for he seemed to 
see a large animal twice the size of 
Black Spot, battling with the steel jaws. 

[ 192 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT” 


Coyote ! surely it was coyote, howling 
the desperate howl of his race. 

But where was the little fox ? The 
boy looked eagerly about, and at last 
almost at the top of the bank he spied 
two small creatures, one bristling and 
angry, the other dejected and crest- 
fallen. 

“ I believe he’s getting scolded,” 
thought the boy, laughing hysterically. 
Another idea at once suggested itself, 
— he, too, had a father, who before 
many minutes would be upon that 
very spot. 

Alone sat coyote, exhausted from 
the unavailing struggle, unwilling to 
gnaw off his foot as one of his family 
had done, but determined to face death 
with bravery. A coward no longer, he 
[ 193 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


sat calmly, now in his tnrn watching the 
trial and awaiting the end. 

“ Black Spot,” said Kit, as he dragged 
along his reluctant son, “ never let your 
mother know what happened to-night. 
If she had any idea how careless you 
are, she would never sleep again. I hope 
you have learned a lesson ; play with 
your friend if you like, but work you 
must.” 

“ My dear,” he remarked to his wife 
a few minutes later, “ we’re safe at last, 
coyote has been caught, and there’ll be 
no more traps.” 

He was right. The men found their 
chickens safe and didn’t bother to set 
the ti’ap again. 

Black Spot became a keen hunter, but 
he found time every night for a I’omp 
[ 194 ] 


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THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


with the boy, by moonlight or star light, 
it mattered little which in that land of 
crystal air. 

One night the fox listened in vain for 
the usual whistle ; he bounded anxiously 
to the meeting place, and to his amaze- 
ment found the boy lying face down 
upon the ground and weeping bitterly. 
What could a fox do to comfort a boy? 
He rubbed his soft body against the bare 
legs, and buried his moist little nose 
in the brown hand; then with sharp 
barks he begged the boy to play. 

“No playing to-night. Black Spot,” 
gulped the lad, “ we must talk now and 
say good-by, for to-morrow I am going far 
away from here and I shall never see 
you again.” 

He held the tiny fox in his arms for 
[ 195 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


an hour, stroking and loving him, then 
with one last hug he put him down. 
As the boy went toward the tent. Black 
Spot followed. 

“ Go back,” softly commanded the 
boy several times, “you must, you 
know.” 

Still the fox crept close behind. Sud- 
denly the boy turned. “ Do you mean 
that you will stay with me always? ” he 
exclaimed. 

Black Spot jumped about joyfully, say- 
ing as best he could that at last his friend 
had guessed. 

“ My darling fox, yon shall,” the boy 
cried, “but now run quickly and tell 
your father and mother; I will wait till 
you come back.” 

Black Spot ran home as fast as he 
[ 196 ] 


THE STORY OF “BLACK SPOT 


could and arrived almost too excited to 
speak. At length he told his tale, and 
a family council was held. Kit finally 
ended the discussion; “Black Spot is 
nearly full grown,” he said, “and the 
time has come for him to choose his own 
way. We can’t always keep our children 
with us in the burrow,” he added, turning 
to his wife. “ Go, my son, see the world, 
be wise, and come back when you are 
tired of it all ; there will always be a 
place for you. As long as the men are 
going away, and coyote is dead, we shall 
stay right here. The boy is your friend. 
I knew it the night that he thought 
you were caught.” 

When the last farewells had been 
said. Black Spot hurried back to the 
boy. He was a sad little fox, but for all 
[ 197 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


that, his heart beat fast with thoughts of 
the untried way before him. 

The next morning the boy’s father 
went as usual to call his son; there 
seemed to him something strange about 
the heap in the cot ; he looked and looked 
again in utter amazement, for there, cud- 
dled in the boy’s arms and sound asleep, 
lay a beautiful kit fox. 

Harry heaved a sigh. “ Don’t I wish I 
had a fox like that ! ” he exclaimed. “ A 
badger isn’t half as nice. Will you let 
me try sitting up in the night, papa?” 

“ Perhaps sometime we can both sit 
up together, dear.” 


[198] 


CHAPTEE XI 


PROSPECTING 

T he cold came at last. Harry 
jumped out of bed with a 
new feeling as the crisp, clear 
air filled his lungs and sent little tingles 
down to his very toes. Round the house 
he ran a dozen times, stretching his 
muscles, which had grown limp from the 
long weeks of heat and rest. Jenny, 
eager to be running too, stamped on the 
ground; while Jack barked and leaped 
about, frisky with the cool in his 
bones. 

Now was the time for prospecting, and 
Harry, armed with his own little pick 
[ 199 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


and hammer, started on a thorough 
search of the hills. Sometimes he fol- 
lowed one of the men, but generally he 
went with his mother, who was as eager 
as he to find a gold mine. Day after day 
they tramped across the country, return- 
ing at night unsuccessful, but with 
toughened muscles and keener sight. 

One afternoon as they approached the 
cabin after a long expedition, Harry ex- 
claimed abruptly, “ Why, what’s that 
walking around our house ? ” 

“ It looks to me like an Indian squaw,” 
answered Mrs. Baldwin, quickening her 
pace. “ Only see, Harry, she is delib- 
erately drinking from our olla.” 

The creak of the opening gate caused 
the squaw to look up. She nodded to 
them, then pointed to an old Indian, who 
[ 200 ] 



Prospecting in the Hills. — Page 200 . 


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PROSPECTING 


was bent almost double with the weight 
of the heavy pack on his back. 

“ Who are you? ” asked Mrs. Baldwin. 
“ What you want ? ” 

“ We Pai Ute,” replied the man. 
“ Heap sick, heap sick,” he moaned, rub- 
bing one hand round and round on his 
stomach. 

“Where are you going?” shrieked 
Harry, sure that if he talked loud he 
could be more easily understood. 

“Way, way off, St. Thomas; all heap 
hungry, heap thirsty,” said the plump 
little squaw. She kept her eyes fixed on 
Harry as if she were fascinated. 

“ Your papoose? ” she questioned pres- 
ently. 

“ Yes,” replied Harry’s mother. “ Do 
you like him ? ” 


[ 201 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ Yep, pretty good papoose, pretty 
good nice face.” With that she shutHed 
up to the small boy and put out her hand 
to smooth his plump cheek. He, how- 
ever, had no idea of allowing such a 
liberty, and sank hurriedly to the ground 
behind his mother. 

Mrs. Baldwin kept close watch of her 
guests while she sent Harry into the 
house for some dry biscuits and a few 
hard apples, the only “ left overs ” she 
had. These the Indians seized and de- 
voured nearly whole, as hungry animals 
would have done. Even in the midst of 
his delight, the old Indian still rubbed 
his stomach. 

“I know what I can give him,” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Baldwin, with a happy 
inspiration. She slipped into the cabin, 
[ 202 ] 


PROSPECTING 


followed closely by Harry, and in another 
moment reappeared with some pills in an 
envelope. 

“ Here,” said she to the man, “ take 
one pill ; one, two hours take pill ; one, 
two hours take another pill. You under- 
stand ? ” 

“Ye, ye, medcin, you good doctor,” 
muttered the old fellow, grinning a horrid 
grin that showed his broken, fang-like 
teeth. 

“ Good-by,” said Mrs. Baldwin, mean- 
ingly. 

To her amazement the Indians paid 
not the least attention, but settled on 
the ground with the evident intention of 
staying. The longer she gazed at the 
pair, the more conscious she became that 
they were very disagreeable-looking, and 
[ 203 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


that Harry and she were alone in camp. 
Finally, after a long pause, she asked 
eagerly, “ I give you loaf bread, you go 
St. Thomas hurry up, quick ? ” 

“ We go,” grunted the man. 

A little later they shambled down the 
hill, the squaw carrying under each arm 
a loaf of fresh bread, the only bread in 
camp. Their intention of going on 
seemed short lived, for in about ten 
minutes they stopped and unloaded the 
pack. 

Three whole days those Indians hung 
about. No one could induce them to go. 
On the evening of the third day, when 
Harry had been tied securely in his sleep- 
ing bag and had gone sound asleep, a 
council of war was held in the now cosey 
sitting room of the cabin. 

[ 204 ] 


PROSPECTING 


“ Many of the Pai Utes are still bad,” 
exclaimed Mr. Cook at last, as he shook 
the tobacco from his pipe. “ These two 
hadn’t ought to be around camp when no 
one’s here, and Harry and his mother 
hadn’t ought to be here alone with them. 
I don’t like the look of the man.” 

“ I am equally sure that I don’t like 
the looks of the squaw,” added Mrs. 
Baldwin. “ She watches Harry all the 
time. The little fellow is so nervous 
about her that he never leaves me for a 
minute. I’m afraid she wants to steal 
him.” 

“She wouldn’t dare to do that, I 
think,” said Mr. Baldwin, “but in the 
morning we will send them off for good. 
I promised Harry that I would take him 
up to the mine to-morrow.” 

[ 205 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“We are going prospecting again,” 
laughed the small boy’s mother. “ He 
makes me work hard, too. Eeally we 
have climbed back and forth over those 
hills fifty times, and I don’t believe 
there’s any gold in them.” 

“You don’t know how to find it, 
that’s all,” said Mr. Cook. “ The boy’s 
all right and he’s teamin’. Mebbe he’ll 
surprise you yet.” 

“ Well, we will try again and hope 
for better luck,” answered Mr. Baldwin. 
“ Good night.” 

Bright and early the next morning 
the Indians packed up and left, bearing 
away in triumph their bribe, — a great 
sack of flour, which was almost worth 
its weight in gold. 

Harry, once more his cheerful self, 
[ 206 ] 



Outside the Tunnel . — Page 20'j 


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PROSPECTING 


mounted Jenny and raced on ahead of 
the wagon over the five sandy miles to 
the mine. There he at once set about 
making a thorough inspection; to see 
how far the tunnel had gone, how the 
shaft was progressing, and whether the 
vein was widening or narrowing. With 
the air of an old miner he climbed into 
the tunnel and chipped off a piece of 
white rock, which he held under a 
candle and examined. 

“ Hi, Jim ! ” he called, “ this will run 
about sixty dollars to the ton.” 

“It’s all right, there,” replied the man, 
who was hard at work farther in, “but 
gosh ! I believe the vein’s pinchin’. 
Send your pa down as soon as he 
comes.” 

Harry hurried out to the light where 
[ 207 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


he delivered his message, then stopped 
for a minute to watch two men that 
were sorting ore. One of them looked 
up at him with a laugh. 

“ Goin’ prospectin’ again?” he asked. 
“ I don’t believe you know one kind of 
ore from another.” 

Harry gave him one scornful glance. 
“I’ll show you whether I know good 
ore when I see it,” he exclaimed, as he 
plumped down by the big canvas sheet 
and went to work. 

Quickly and deftly he picked up piece 
after piece of rock ; scrutinized each 
carefully and laid it in its proper pile, 
so that the ones containing the most 
gold lay in a heap by themselves, the 
next best in another heap, and so on 
down. 


[ 208 ] 


PROSPECTING 


“What you doin’, boy?” asked Mr. 
Cook, coming up. “ Sortin’ ore ? ” 

“ Yes, I’m doing it because the men 
laughed at me when I said I was going 
prospecting.” 

“ Well, they needn’t laugh any more,” 
replied Harry’s friend. “ By Jing ! ” he 
added, as he stooped to inspect Harry’s 
work. “ That little chap can sort ore 
better than you big clowns. Just look 
at this.” 

Harry stood with his aching hands in 
his pockets, watching proudly while the 
men looked at his piles of rock. 

“ Mr. Cook,” he burst out, fired with a 
sudden determination, “you’ve been 
a good friend to me, and if I do find 
a gold mine, I’m going to give you a 
share; it won’t be a half, though, for 
[ 209 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


of course, mamma will have to have a 
share, too.” 

“ All right, old man, we’re partners 
from now out. You do the square thing 
by me, and I’ll do it by you. Let’s shake 
on it.” 

Much to the amusement of the men, 
the two partners shook hands and the 
compact was sealed. 

Harry then hunted up his mother 
and started with her on another cross- 
country tramp. 

“ We’re going to an all new place 
to-day,” said the little boy. “I’ve been 
thinking about it, and I’m sure no one 
has been there yet. It’s across the big 
wash and over those hills.” 

“But that’s too far for us to walk, 
dear.” 


[ 210 ] 


PROSPECTING 


“ No, it isn’t ; it’s only ten o’clock 
now; we’ve got our lunch with us and 
we needn’t get back to the mine till 
three o’clock. I told papa we shouldn’t.” 

“ Very well,” his mother answered, 
“but there is no use in wearing our- 
selves out.” 

“We won’t, only let’s go along as 
fast as we can ; please don’t keep stop- 
ping to look at things ; those are the 
same old bushes we always see.” 

Mrs. Baldwin laughed helplessly, and 
followed her indefatigable son. The 
climb was the hardest yet; first up to 
the top of a ridge of rocks and down 
the other side, creeping from shelf to 
shelf; next across a wash, where their 
feet sank in and where they seemed to 
go two steps backward to one forward; 

[ 211 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


then up the slope of another ridge. This 
had been Harry’s objective point, and 
now he went slowly, examining closely 
the cliffs and boulders, and many pieces 
of loose rock, which he called “float” 
as the prospectors did. 

“ There isn’t a sign of gold in any- 
thing,” cried Harry, almost discouraged. 
“ Let’s have lunch and take a rest.” 

“ I shall be only too thankful for the 
chance,” sighed his mother, as she spread 
out their sandwiches and cheese. 

Harry hurried through his share, and 
before he had swallowed the last mouth- 
ful, cried, “ Come on, mamma.” 

“ I simply can’t, Harry. I’m tired, and 
besides I want to look at the view. See 
how the valley stretches off to the blue 
mountains ; and look back across the 
[ 212 ] 


PROSPECTING 


river — those pink mesas are way off by 
the Grand Canyon.” 

“ Oh, mamma ! ” groaned Harry. 
“ Would you rather look at a view than 
find a gold mine ? ” 

“ I would at the present moment,” she 
replied with a sigh of content as she 
settled herself into a snug crevice be- 
tween two rocks. 

She must have been sound asleep, 
for she started up, dazed and wonder- 
ing, when a shout from Harry reached 
her. 

“ Mamma,” came the call again, “ come 
here quickly and see this float.” 

With heads close together they studied 
the small piece of rock. 

“ Look at the brown rust,” exclaimed 
Harry. “ It’s the very color Mr. Cook 
[ 213 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


told US to hunt for, and there are even 
some specks of free gold.” 

“ I believe you are right, Harry, but 
where in the world could it have come 
from? We have been over these rocks 
once already.” 

“ Look ! ” cried Harry, “ there seems 
to be a place where water has washed 
down. Maybe once when it rained this 
piece of rock came down with the 
water.” 

“That’s so,” answered Mrs. Baldwin, 
excitedly, “ let us follow it up ; you take 
one side and I will take the other.” 

All weariness was forgotten. The two 
keen hunters, who had at last seen gold, 
stumbled up the steep slope, pulling 
themselves along now by a straggling 
branch of greasewood, now by a jutting 
[ 214 ] 


PROSPECTING 


point of rock. Nothing escaped them; 
no stone was too barren for notice. Still 
there was no sign of anything in the 
least like the rich piece of float. Harry 
scrambled on ahead and up to the top of 
the hill. 

“ 0 dear ! ” he said to himself. “ It 
isn’t hei’e after all,” and quite unbidden, 
a lump came in his throat and a haze 
over his eyes. He swallowed hard and 
sat down to gain control over himself; 
for eightryear-old boys don’t cry, often. 
But the tears would come until the tired 
little fellow rolled over and buried his 
face in his arms. The tempest over, he 
dragged his sleeve across his eyes and 
lay quite still. Gradually it came to him 
that the rock upon which he was blankly 
gazing was not gray, but white. He 
[ 215 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


raised himself on his elbows, then rose to 
his knees and rubbed his eyes. At last 
he sprang to his feet and shrieked at the 
the top of his lungs, — “ The vein ! Oh, 
mamma. I’ve found it ! ” 

Mrs. Baldwin hurried up and dropped, 
panting, beside the boy, who was on his 
knees again throwing aside bits of stone 
and brushing the sand from a streak of 
white quartz, which ran like a ribbon 
through the granite. They hammered off 
piece after piece of the rock and studied 
each closely, hardly daring to breathe ; 
with feverish haste they took turns 
wielding the pick until they had made a 
gash in the vein. 

“ It’s getting better all the time,” 
Harry cried, “ and only look, it runs all 
along the ridge ! ” 


PROSPECTING 


“ I can’t believe it ; it seems too 
wonderful ; but oh, Harry ! I believe 
we’ve found our gold mine.” Mrs. Bald- 
win stood looking off as if in a trance, 
while Harry, affected by the discovery 
in quite different fashion, was jumping 
about and executing a veritable Indian 
war dance. 

At last, with a start, Mrs. Baldwin 
consulted her watch. “ Boy, dear ! ” she 
ejaculated, “it’s late; we must hurry 
and put up our monument.” 

For an hour these two, unconscious of 
torn hands and aching muscles, dragged 
together a pile of stones, of which they 
built a smooth, even pyramid. When 
Harry had tucked in a few last pebbles 
to make the structure solid, he glanced 
up. 

[ 217 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ Why, what makes the sky so dark ? ” 
he asked. 

Mrs. Baldwin looked quickly about. 
Above, the heavens were full of huge, 
black clouds, hurrying north; and below 
the long stretches of desert were dotted 
with whirls of sand, circling dizzily 
around far up into the sky. jtfearer and 
nearer came the whirls, borne on by the 
fierce south wind, which burst upon them 
furiously. 

“What is it, mamma?” questioned 
the little boy, with sudden apprehen- 
sion. 

“ It’s a sand storm,” his mother half 
whispered. “We must run — we must 
try to find some shelter.” 

With the blast in their faces they 
rapidly made the difficult descent, slip- 
[ 218 ] 


PROSPECTING 


ping, sliding, crashing over sticks or 
stones, then dragging themselves up and 
on again. Always the blinding sand 
swept in clouds about them, blowing and 
drifting like snow in a blizzard. 

“ Where,” gasped Harry, “ where are 
we going? Oh, mamma, I can’t see!” 

“ Never mind, I will lead you — keep 
closer ! Come, come ! ” 

They had groped their way only a few 
feet farther, through the semi-darkness 
and confusion, when Harry stumbled once 
more, and, in falling, pulled his mother 
with him to the ground. For a few 
moments they lay huddled together, too 
exhausted to move, then, rousing herself, 
Mrs. Baldwin moaned, “We must go 
on.” 

“ My legs won’t move ; I hurt all 
[ 219 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


over; please let me sleep/^ sobbed 
Harry. 

His mother rose to her knees and peered 
about until, with a sinking at her heart, 
she realized that she had lost all sense 
of direction. Discouraged, she sank back. 
“ You may sleep, darling; lay your head 
in my lap,^^ she said soothingly, trying 
to control her voice and to quiet the 
terrified child. ‘‘We will stay here un- 
til the storm passes. She pulled her 
hat over her eyes, and covering her face 
with her hands, crouched for some time 
immovable, one dot of humanity in all 
that vast, swirling universe of sand. 

Suddenly Harry started. “ The sand 
is covering us,^^ he shrieked. 

Mrs. Baldwin pulled the boy to his 
feet and held him firmly. Together they 
[ 220 ] 


PROSPECTING 


swayed back and forth, straining every 
muscle to keep their footing, w’hile the 
desert heaped itself about them. 

Hours seemed to have passed when, 
out of the sand clouds, there appeared 
the figure of a woman. Could she be a 
vision conjured by the fearful thirst that 
possessed them? 

Presently a voice said, “ Sand pretty 
bad. Come! I take papoose. You got 
um pretty papoose.” With that the 
strange shape stooped over and lifted 
Harry as if he had been a baby. He 
knew then that it was the Pai Ute 
squaw and that she was kind ; with a 
sigh he sank thankfully into her strong 
arms. 

On and on the two women fought their 
way, though seeming never to move. 

[ 221 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ Pretty quick you rest,” encouraged 
the squaw, and soon she led the way 
to a shelter beneath some shelving 
rocks. With a last effort Mrs. Baldwin 
stumbled into the cave. The squaw 
laid Harry beside his mother and at 
once turned toward a barrel cactus 
which grew close by. Swiftly she 
grasped the hatchet that hung at her 
side, hacked off the prickly top of the 
cactus ; then with a sharp stick jabbed 
the inside of the great stump until she 
produced at last a juicy pulp, which 
she carefully scooped up in a gourd 
cup. Next, rousing Mrs. Baldwin, she 
handed her the cup and motioned to 
her to drink. When Harry’s turn came, 
and he felt the welcome moisture in 
his mouth, he gave a groan of satisfac- 
[ 222 ] 


PROSPECTING 


tion, and turning over, fell into a sound, 
natural sleep. 

The squaw squatted watchfully on the 
ground. 

“ Maybe so wind stop ; maybe so we 
stay in cave long time.” 

The squaw looked kindly at Mrs. Bald- 
win with bead-like eyes. “ I tell men 
maybe so I find hico squaw, pretty 
papoose, all a same, pretty quick.” 

“Are they hunting for us?” 

“ They hunt all round. Old squaw she 
no good Indian ; she go find,” and she 
nodded her shaggy head emphatically. 

The night was almost upon them when 
there came a sudden lull, — it seemed 
a deathly stillness, but it meant life to 
the creatures of the desert and hope to 
the frightened white woman, hidden 
[ 223 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


beneath the rocks. The squaw crept 
out and after looking in all directions, 
gave a piercing call, which she repeated 
again and again. Faintly at first, then 
louder, came an answering shout, and 
in a short time the old Indian, followed 
by Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Cook, plunged 
over the rocks into the cave. 

How wonderful to have been found 
and to be safe at last! Mrs. Baldwin 
felt that this was the dream and that 
only the sand could be real. 

Harry still lay on the ground asleep, 
but as he was gathered into his father’s 
arms he murmured, “We found our gold 
mine, mamma and I, we truly did.” 

“Hush, dear,” Mr. Baldwin whispered, 
“ and perhaps you will have another nice 
dream.” 


[224] 



Harry as a Prospector, — Page 224 , 




CHAPTEE XII 


“THE BOSTON BOY ” 

W HEN Harry opened his eyes 
the next morning, he was 
surprised to find himself 
gazing at the top of a white canvas 
tent. 

“ How did I get here ? ” he said, half 
to himself. 

“ Don’t you remember the storm, dear, 
and how papa brought you back to the 
mine?” asked Mrs. Baldwin. 

“ I seem to remember seeing the 
squaw and papa, — and that’s all. 
Wasn’t it kind of the men to let us have 
their tent ? ” After a pause, he con- 
[ 225 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


tinued meditatively, “ We did find gold, 
tliougli. I’m sure. Come on, let’s stow 
our vein to papa.” 

“I can’t, Harry, I feel lame and ill; 
you dress and run along by yourself.” 

In a few moments the little miner was 
skipping out of the tent as if there were 
no such things as aching bones. He 
trotted about hunting everywhere for his 
father, whom he finally found seated in 
an out-of-the-way corner, in earnest con- 
versation with Mr. Cook. Harry slipped 
his hand into his father’s and listened 
intently ; all the business connected with 
the mine was of vital interest to him. 

“ The whole amount of it is,” Mr. Cook 
was saying, “ that we’ve come to the end 
of the vein. Mebbe with a whole lot 
more development, we can find it again.” 

[ 226 ] 


“THE BOSTON BOY 


“ There’s no use talking of that at 
present,” replied Mr. Baldwin. “ I sim- 
ply can’t afford it. As far as I can see, 
there is only one thing to be done, — 
mill the ore in sight and then shut down. 
It will be a hard blow to the men as well 
as to the rest of us.” 

“ Do you mean that you haven’t any 
more gold in your mine ? ” put in Harry, 
eagerly. 

“ That is it, son. If there were more, 
it would cost too much money to find 
it.” 

“ But, papa dear, you’ve got my mine 
to work. The vein’s a dandy ! I told 
you so last night. It belongs to Mr. 
Cook and mamma and me, but we’ll be 
willing to give you a share, if you will 
use your machinery.” 

[ 227 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ Why, Harry boy, you only dreamed 
about the mine when you were asleep in 
the cave.” 

“ No, papa, truly I didn’t. I found a 
piece of float, then we followed it to the 
vein and we dug a hole — and we put up 
a monument — and then the storm came, 
and — ” Harry stopped for breath, but 
after one or two gasps he continued, 
“ Please come with me now and I’ll show 
it to you.” 

“ You’re all right, partner,” exclaimed 
Mr. Cook, “ and I’ll bet you did find it. 
We’ll go up with you, if you’re sure you 
know the way.” 

Harry felt certain that he did, but was 
surprised to see that the storm had made 
hills where yesterday had been level 
stretches of sand, and hollows where hills 
[ 228 ] 


THE BOSTON BOY 


had been. Puzzled at first, he finally 
got his bearings by the changeless ridges 
of rock and by the direction of the 
wash. He trotted along with his hand 
in his father’s, chattering continu- 
ously. 

“ Here we are,” he cried in surprise. 
“ It seemed such a short way to-day. 
This is the very place where I found the 
float. Look at the groove in the hill ; 
just follow it up with your eyes ; now do 
you see our monument against the 
sky? ” 

“ By Jove ! there is a monument.” 

“ Why, papa, I told you there was. 
Isn’t it lucky it didn’t blow down ? ” 

Meanwhile, Mr. Cook had climbed up 
himself. 

“ Gee whiz ! ” they heard him shout. 

[ 229 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


Mr. Baldwin and the small boy 
tumbled after him, and soon both men 
were silently at work investigating the 
vein. They followed it along the ridge ; 
they chipped off bits of rock and looked 
at them through their magnifying 
glasses ; they made a big hole with their 
picks. Still no one said a word. Harry 
watched with his heart in his mouth. 
Would no one ever speak ! Unable to 
bear the suspense a moment longer, he 
at last burst out, “Is it any good ? ” 

“ Gosh ! I should say so, ” roared Mr. 
Cook. “ I almost forgot you, boy.” 

Harry hardly heard wdiat he said, for 
with a bound he leaped into his father’s 
arms. 

“ My own little boy,” Mr. Baldwin 
murmured as he hugged him tight, “ my 
[ 280 ] 


THE BOSTON BOY 


own little prospector ! You have found 
a wonderful ledge. I’ve never seen any- 
thing like it, — more than that, you’ve 
found it just in time to save the Willow 
Bend mines.” 

“ Gee ! I’d like a little of that huggin’, 
too, partner. I knew you was all right.” 
Harry flew at Mr. Cook and then there 
was another “ hugging match,” as the old 
miner called it. 

After that, every one talked at once, 
while the men measured the ledge and 
took samples of the ore, to be carried 
back to camp for the assayer or for Mr. 
Cook to pan. 

“ I guess you’re pretty glad I took you 
for a partner,” said Harry to his friend, 
Avhen they had started back reluctantly 
for the mine. 


[231] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ You bet I’m glad. We’ll all get rich 
now, and then what can I do ? I don’t 
like anything but work.” 

“ I’ll take you to Boston and we can 
have some fun,” exclaimed Harry. 

“ No, boss, I wouldn’t do there. I 
guess I’ll go to ’Frisco or Seattle for a 
while ; then I’ll buy the best burro I 
can find, a dandy saddle, a pair of guns, 
and a few slabs of bacon. After that. 
I’ll go prospectin’ again in God’s coun- 
try, where there are trees and streams.” 

“There is the camp,” said Mr. Bald- 
win. “ Come, Harry, and get up on my 
shoulders. Ton must enter like a hero.” 

The two men set up a great shouting 
while Harry waved his hat wildly and 
let out one war-whoop after another. 

The miners came running from all 
[ 232 ] 


“•THE BOSTON BOY” 

sides to see what terrible thing could 
have happened, and Mrs. Baldwin limped 
out from the tent, trembling with fright. 

“ Every one come here,” Mr. Baldwin 
called, and in a moment he was stand- 
ing with Harry still on his shoulders in 
the centre of an excited crowd. 

“ Boys,” he cried, when at last there 
was quiet, “ you’ve got a new boss. 
Here he is up here. He’s found the 
richest ore in the district and he’s going 
to have a wonderful mine.” 

“ Three cheers for the little boss,” 
some one shouted. Cheer after cheer 
rang out with such terrific noise that 
every wild creature in Nevada must 
have wondered what was happening. 

“ Speech, speech,” called Mr. Cook. 
“ Come on, Harry, make us a speech.” 

[ 233 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


“ I’m glad I’ve found a gold mine,” 
piped up the little boy, as he looked 
down with sparkling eyes upon the 
men, “ and I want you all to work for 
me. I’ll try to be a good boss and I 
don’t want you to laugh at me any 
more.” 

At that there was a shout ; Harry 
was seized and tossed from one man to 
another until he didn’t know whether 
his head was up or down. 

Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin crept away and 
talked quietly together of all that this 
great discovery meant to their little 
son, whose future lay so near their 
hearts. 

Weeks and months passed by, and 
the bare ridge upon which Harry and 
[ 284 ] 


THE BOSTON BOY 


his mother had built their monument 
became the scene of ceaseless activity. 
Day and night an army of men Avorked, 
boring tunnels or sinking shafts ; day 
after day precious ore was dragged over 
the five miles to the mill, where it was 
crushed into dust by the monstrous 
stamps. At last a day came when a 
long, smooth bar of shining gold was car- 
ried away, under guard, to the railroad. 

With it went Harry, his mother, and his 
father ; to the railroad and into Cali- 
fornia. There was a happy meeting 
between Harry and his old friend 
Teddy, and a glorious summer on the 
shore of the Pacific. 

Then came another journey, this time 
back over the thousands of miles to 
Boston, Avhere Harry went to school 
[ 235 ] 


A LITTLE PROSPECTOR 


with other boys and learned many, 
many things. But in the wilderness 
he had learned much that he would 
never forget. 

Every morning he gazed wistfully at a 
picture of his Jenny, and then with pride 
and longing at the photographs of his 
mine, — his own mine, which he had 
found at last and had christened “ The 
Boston Boy.” 


[ 236 ] 


MY FRIEND JIM 

A STORY OF REAL BOYS AND FOR THEV 

By MARTHA JAHES 

Square i2mo Cloth Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill 200 pages $1x10 

As a sub-title to her latest book 
for young people, My Friend 
Jim,” Martha James has added 
the line A Story of Real Boys 
and for Them,” and it is a real 
book in the best sense of the 
word. As a testimony as to what 
one real boy at least thinks of it 
it may not be out of place to re- 
late a little incident which oc- 
curred Christmas week. 

Having missed one of the boys 
of the household, a lad given 
more to baseball and shinney 
than books, the writer was surprised to find him lying at 
full-length on a big rug before the fire in the library, deep 
in a book. 

'‘Hello ! what are you reading?” was the exclamatory 
question. 

" ' My Friend Jim,* ’* was the brief reply. 

" Is it good ? ” 

" Well, I guess ; it’s a dandy ! ” and with an impatient 
gesture that indicated that he did not want to be further 
interrupted, he turned his back toward his questioner and 
buried his face in his book. 

Jim is a country boy, strong and healthy in mind and 
body, though poor and humble, whose companionship is 
the means of improving physically, as well as broadening 
in mind and character, the invalid son of a man of means 
forced to remain abroad on business. Brandt, the city 
boy, spends the summer in the country near Jim’s home, 
and the simple adventures and pleasures of the lads form 
the interest of the story. — Brooklyn Citizen, 



LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Boston 


TOM WINSTONE,“WIDE AWAKE ” 

By MARTHA JAMES 

Author of “ My Friend Jim ” and “ Jack Tenfleld’s Star 


Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated by W. Herbert Dunton. Price $1.00 


“ Another book equally worthy of a 
place in our Sunday-school libraries 
is Tom Winstone, ‘ Wide Awake,’ by 
Martha James. It is a thorough-going 
boy’s book of the rightsort,— full of life, 
bubbling over with high spirits and 
noble ambition ; a most intelligent 
interpretation of boy life and charac- 
ter. The young hero of this narrative, 
equally efficient in athletics at school 
and in the harder school of manly 
sacrifice, is a character well worth 
knowing.” — Pilgnm Teacher, Boston. 

“ The young hero of the story, equally efficient in athletic 
sports and in noble deeds, is well worth the acquaintance of every 
healthy boy reader.” — Boston Transcript 

“ Any healthy boy will delight in this book.” — Living Church, 
Milwaukee, TTis. 

“Another excellent story for boys is Tom Winstone, ‘Wide 
Awake,’ by Martha James. Here is a recital of adventure, 
with much account of boyish sport, in a pure tone and with 
Christian teaching.” — Fall River News. 

“ This is a real ‘ boy’s story,’ full of incidents and interesting 
characters drawn to the life, while the tone is wholesome and 
genuine.” — Portland Press. 

“ The author has done a good work for the lads of the gener- 
ation, and her effort will doubtless meet with the popularity it 
deserves.” — Indianapolis Sentinel. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by i?ie publishers. 



L'EE & SHEPARD, PxiblisHers, Boston 



PIGEON CAMP SERIES 

By MARTHA JAMES 

Illustrated Cloth Large i2mo $1.25 


JIMMIE SUTER 

TIMMIE SUTER is a sturdy, active, honest 
boy, whose father and mother are veiy 
worthy people in moderate circumstances. 
What Jimmie lacks in pocket money, however, 
he more than makes up in mechanical inge- 
nuity and other good qualities, and his best boy 
friend is the son of a rich man, but not spoiled 
by the fact. They have royal times making and 
sailing an ice-boat and doing many other things, 
and best of all they organize the “ S. F. B.,” or Society for Feeding 
Birds, which spreads far and wide and is productive of most enjoyable 
acquaintances besides doing good service in the cause for which it was 
intended. Deeds of kindness to a queer old neighbor bring an unex- 
pected reward, and the bright, wholesome book ends in a most pleasing 
manner. 

“ Martha James seems to have a good kind of insight for this juvenile 
literature, and in the course of an interesting story drops many valuable 
suggestions about the employment of a boy’s time and his habits of life 
outside of school.” — Syracuse Herald. 

“In his kindness and thoughtfulness for both men and animals, 
Jimmie is an ideal boy.” — The Watchman^ Boston. 

“The happy, wholesome book closes in a thoroughly satisfactory 
way . ’ ’ — Chicago Inter- Ocean. 

“The tone is simple and healthy, and the book will no doubt find 
many young readers.” — The Churchman^ Milwaukee. 



For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers, 


LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


THE BOY CRAFTSMAN 

Practical and Profitable Ideas for a Box’* 
Leisvire Hovirs 

By A. NEELY HALL 

Illustrated with over 400 diagrams and 
working drawings 8vo Price, $2.00 

E very real boy wishes to design and make 
things, but the questions of materials and 
tools are often hard to get around. Nearly all 
books on the subject call for a greater outlay of 
money than is within the means of many boys, 
or their parents wish to expend in such ways. 
In this book a number of chapters give sugges- 
tions for carrying on a small business that will 
bring a boy in money with which to buy tools 
and materials necessary for making apparatus 
and articles described in other chapters, while 
the ideas are so practical that many an indus- 
trious boy can learn what he is best fitted for in his life work. No work 
of its class is so completely up-to-date or so worthy in point of thorough- 
ness and avoidance of danger. The drawings are profuse and excellent, 
and every feature of the book is first-class. It tells how to make a boy’s 
workshop, how to handle tools, and what can be made with them; how 
to start a printing shop and conduct an amateur newspaper, how to 
make photographs, build a log cabin, a canvas canoe, a gymnasium, a 
miniature theatre, and many other things dear to the soul of youth. 

We cannot imagine a more delightful present for a boy tnan this book. — 
Churchman ^ N.T. 

Every boy should have this book. It’s a practical book — it gets right next to 
the boy’s heart and stays there. He will have it near him all the time, and on every 
page there is a lesson or something that will stand the boy in good need. Beyond 
a doubt in its line this is one of the cleverest books on the market. — Providence 
News. 

If a boy has any sort of a mechanical turn of mind, his parents should see that 
he has this book. — Boston Journal. 

This is a book that will do boys good. — Buffalo Express. 

The boy who will not find this book a mine of joy and profit must be queerly 
constituted. — Pittsburgh Gazette. 

Will be a delight to the boy mechanic. — Watchman, Boston, 

An admirable book to give a boy. — Newark News, 

This book is the best yet offered for its large number of practical and profitable 
ideas. — Milwaukee Free Press. 

Parents ought to know of this book. — New Fork Globe. 



For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers, 

LOTHROP. LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


J\ Boy of a Cbou$ana 
Vear$ Jiao 

By Harriet T. Comstock Large i 2 mo 
Profusely illustrated with full-page draw- 
ings and chapter headings by George 
VaRIAN $1.00 

TT will at once be understood that the 
1 “boy” of the story is Alfred the Great 
in his youth, but it cannot be understood 
how delightful a story this is until it is seen 
and read. The splendid pictures of George 
Varian make this book superior among 
juveniles. 

“Not a boy lives who will not enjoy this book thoroughly. There is a good 
deal of first-class historical information woven into the story, but the best part of it 
is the splendid impression of times and manners it gives in old England a thousand 
years ago.” — Louisville Courier- Journal, 

“ Mrs. Comstock writes very appreciatively of Little Alfred, who was after, 
ward the Great, and from mighty meagre materials creates a story that hangs to- 
gether well. The illustrations for this volume are especially beautiful.” — Boston 
Home Journal, 

Cbe Story of Joan of 

By Kate E. Carpenter Illustrated by 
Amy Brooks, also from paintings, and 
with map Large i2mo Cloth $i.oo 

T he favorite story of Joan of Arc is here 
treated in a uniquely attractive w^ay. 

“ Aunt Kate ” tells the story of Joan of Arc 
to Master Harold, aged ii, and to Misses 
Bessie and Marjorie, aged lo and 8, respec- 
tively, to their intense delight. They look 
up places on the map, and have a fine time 
while hearing the thrilling story, told in such 
simple language that they can readily under- 
stand it all. Parents and teachers vdll also 
be greatly interested in this book from an 
educational point of view. 

“The tale is well told and the children will delight in it.”— Chicago Post, 
“Told so simply and clearly that young readers cannot fail to be entertained 
and instructed.” — Cong^regationalist^ Boston, 

For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


Jlrc 


FOR 

BOYS AND GIRLS 





CHILDREN OF OTHER . LANDS SERIES 


When I Was a Boy in Japan 

By Sakae Shioya Illustrated from photographs 
i2mo Cloth $.75 

T he author was born fifty miles from 
Tokio, and at the age of twelve began 
the study of English at a Methodist school. 
Later he studied Natural Science in the First 
Imperial College at Tokio, after which he 
taught English and Mathematics. He came 
to America in 1901, received the degree of 
Master of Arts at the University of Chicago, 
and took a two years’ post-graduate course at 
Yale before returning to Japan. No one 
could be better qualified to introduce the 
Japanese to those in America, and he has 
done it in a way that will delight both 
children and parents. 

When ! Was a Qirl in Italy 

By Marietta Ambrosi i 2 mo Cloth Illustrated $-75 

T he author, Marietta Ambrosi, was born in Tyrol, having an American- 
born mother of Italian descent, and a Veronese father. Her entire 
girlhood was spent in Brescia and other cities of Northern Italy, and in 
early womanhood she came with her family to America. Her story gives 
a most graphic account of the industries, social customs, dress, pleasures, 
and religious observances of the Italian common people. 



When 1 Was a Boy in China 

By Yan Phou Lee i2mo Cloth Illustrated from 
photographs $.75 

T^EW YORK INDEPENDENT says: “Yan Phou Lee was one of 
1- ^ the young men sent to this country to be educated here, and finally 
matriculated at Yale, where he graduated with honor. ‘When I was a 
Boy in China ’ embodies his recollections of his native country. It is 
certainly attractive, with more room for nature to operate and play in 
freely than is generally attributed to Chinese life.” 


For sale by all booksellers^ or sent postpaid on receipt 
of price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


Y oung Americans. 

By ELBRIDGE S* BROOKS. 

THE POPULAR ^^TRUE STORY^^ SERIES. 


Seven 4to volumes of from 200 to 250 pages each, profusely 
illustrated and attractively bound in cloth, each J^i.50. 

“A series which is worthy of hearty commendation. Every grown-up 

person who has read one of them will wish to buy the whole series for the 

young folks at home.” — The Christian Advocate. 

This series contains : 

THE TRUE STORY OF CHRISTOPHER 
COLUMBUS, called the Admiral. 

Revised Edition. 

THE TRUE STORY OF GEORGE 
WASHINGTON, called the Father of 
His Country. 

THE TRUE STORY OF ABRAHAM LIN- 
COLN, the American. 

THE TRUE STORY OF U. S. GRANT, 
the American Soldier. 

THE TRUE STORY OF BENJAMIN 
FRANKLIN, the American Statesman. 

THE TRUE STORY OF LAFAYETTE, 
the Friend of America. 

THE TRUE STORY OF THE UNITED 
STATES OF AMERICA. From 1492 
to 1900. 

Also, recently published : 

IN BLUE AND WHITE. A Story of the 
American Revolution. 8vo, illustrated, ^1.50. 

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co., 

93 FEDERAL STREET BOSTON. 


The Little Citizen 

By M. E. WALLER 

Illustrated by H* Burgess* J2mo, blue cloth, illustrated cover, 
$ 1*25 


^HIS is a right royal, good juvenile story. 

It has the narrative of the development 
of a waif of New York streets in the simple 
and wholesome life of a Vermont farmer 
neighborhood. The lad, Miffins, is taken 
into the household of Jacob Foss, a farmer. 
The story tells of the transformation wrought 
in Miffins’s character. It is a story of heart 
power ; and with its study of the evolution 
of a street gamin into a useful little citizen, 
and with its graphic descriptions of Vermont 
country life in summer and winter, it makes 
a book of unusual power and interest. 


LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Boston 


T H £ 

FAMOUS PEPPER BOOKS 

By Margaret Sidney 

IN ORDER OF PUBLICATION 


Five Little Peppers and How they Grew. Cloth, 
i2mo, illustrated, ^1.50, postpaid. 

This was an instantaneous success ; it has become a genuine 
child classic. 

Five Little Peppers Midway. Cloth, i2mo, illus- 
trated, ^1.50, postpaid. 

“ A perfect Cheeryble of a book .’' — Boston Herald. 

Five Little Peppers Grown Up. Cloth, i2mo, illus- 
trated, ^1.50, postpaid. 

This shows the Five Little Peppers as “grown up,” with all 
the struggles and successes of young manhood and womanhood. 

Phronsie Pepper. Cloth, i2mo, illustrated, 1^1.50, 
postpaid. 

It is the story of Phronsie, the youngest and dearest of all the 
Peppers. 

The Stories Polly Pepper Told. Cloth, i2mo. 

Illustrated by Jessie McDermott and Etheldred B. 
Barry. ^1.50, postpaid. 

Wherever there exists a child or a “ grown-up,” there will be a 
welcome for these charming and delightful “ Stories Polly 
Pepper Told.” 

The Adventures of Joel Pepper. Cloth, i2mo. 

Illustrated by Sears Gallagher. 1^1.50, postpaid. 

As bright and just as certain to be a child’s favorite as the 
others in the famous series. Harum-scarum “ Joey ” is lovable. 

Five Little Peppers Abroad. Cloth, i2mo. Illus- 
trated by Fanny Y. Cory, i^i.50, postpaid. 

The “ Peppers Abroad” adds another most delightful book to 
this famous series. 

Five Little Peppers at School. Cloth, i2mo. Illus- 
trated by Hermann Heyer. Price, ^1.50; postpaid. 

Of all the fascinating adventures and experiences of the 
“ Peppers,” none will surpass those contained in this volume. 

Five Little Peppers and Their Friends. Illustrated 
by Eugenie M. VVireman. Cloth, i2mo, ^1.50; postpaid. 

Tlie friends of the Peppers are legion, and the number will 
be further increased by this book. 

Ben Pepper. Illustrated by Eugenie M. Wireman. 
Cloth, i2mo, ^1.50. 

This story centres about Ben, “the quiet, steady-as-a-rock 
boy,” while the rest of the Peppers help to make it as bright 
and pleasing as its predecessors. 


LOTHROP, LEE AND SHEPARD COMPANY 



patnoas Children 

By H. Twitchell Illustrated $1.25 

W E have here a most valuable book, telling 
not of the childhood of those who have 
afterwards become famous, but those who as 
children are famous in history, song, and story. 
For convenience the subjects are grouped as 
Royal Children,” “ Child Artists,” “Learned 
Children,” “Devoted Children,” “Child Mar- 
tyrs,” and “Heroic Children,” and the names 
of the “ two little princes,” Louis XVIL, Mo- 
zart, St. Genevieve, David, and Joan of Arc are 
here, as well as those of many more. 


«FAMOUS« 

CHILDREN 



The Stony of the Cid People ^ 

By Calvin Dill Wilson Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy $1.25 

M r. WILSON, a well-known writer and reviewer, has prepared from 
Southey’s translation, which was far too cumbrous to entertain the 
young, a book that will kindle the imagination of youth and entertain and 
inform those of advanced years. 



Jason’s Quest 

By D. O. S. Lowell, A. M., M. D. Master in 
Roxbury Latin School Illustrated $1.00 

■^OTHING can be better to arouse the imagin- 
^ ^ ation of boys and girls, and at the same 
time store in their minds knowledge indispens- 
able to any one who would be known as cul- 
tured, or happier than Professor Lowell’s way 
of telling a story, and the many excellent draw- 
ings have lent great spirit to the narrative. 


Hepocs of the Cmsades 

By Amanda M. Douglas Cloth Fifty full-page illustrations $1.50 

T he romantic interest in the days of chivalry, so fully exemplified by 
the “'Heroes of the Crusades,” is permanent and properly so. This 
book is fitted to keep it alive without descending to improbability or 
cheap sensationalism. 


For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


/ 





WN 22 1907 






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